Booth and Brennan: Fifty Things
by DemonClowSorceress
Summary: Fourth of my Fifty Things stories! I present fifty little snippets about Booth and Brennan for your enjoyment! K plus for whatever might appear. COMPLETE!
1. Prompts

**Booth and Brennan: Fifty Things**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

**Another Fifty Things installment! We all wanted one for Booth and his Bones, right? Right?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_. That's Hart Hanson's claim to fame.**

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><p>#1 - Car<p>

Some of their best detective work - not to mention arguments - happened in his SUV.

#2 - Logic

It protected her for so long, allowing her to decipher the mysteries of a skeleton's death. But even her greatest shield couldn't explain what her own heart wanted.

#3 - Luck

"I haven't lost since we came here," she said with a smile that said infinitely more than her words.

#4 - Montreal

Meeting the other forensic anthropologist in Canada was an interesting experience for him.

#5 - Jasper

The little pig meant the world to her. Not only because Booth gave it to her, but because he remembered something like that in passing.

#6 - Seeley

Only his surname is able to escape her lips. Not for a lack of trying.

#7 - Temperance

She's heard her name spoken by many different men, but only Booth's voice was able to make her heart flutter.

#8 - Believe

He had his religion, she had her facts. They disagreed at times, but respected the other's faith.

#9 - Foreigner

She'd never had a favorite artist until he put in that CD and started jamming out.

#10 - Culture

"I don't know what that means," has become one of his favorite phrases since he started working with her.

#11 - Spooky

It was almost like staring at doppelgangers, Angela thought, seeing how the teenage boy was so protective of his female best friend. It made her think of how Booth protected Brennan, just younger.

#12 - Return

When his father reappeared after so many years, he had to contend with more than just his eldest son.

#13 - Eyes

Some people had called them icy, chilled by her hyper-rationality and search for emperical facts. But he knew the fire that dwelled in those depths could make them sparkle like sapphires.

#14 - Magic

Sinatra's song applied to them more than either of them could ever realize.

#15 - Bestseller

It slightly annoyed her that the main reason her books stayed on the lists was because of the sex scenes.

#16 - Sun

Avalon Harmonia's words refused to go away, even after the case was completed.

#17 - Plate

When the crash echoed through the apartment, he originally thought it wasn't a big deal. Then he heard her scream.

#18 - TV

When it finally arrived, she just had to call him over for a night of testing out all the channels.

#19 - Carribbean

Her eyes widened when she heard the voice on the phone. "Sully?" she breathed.

#20 - Fingers

Whenever his back gave him trouble, he always went to her to help.

#21 - Godparents

Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins had the best people to look after him, aside from his parents.

#22 - Threat

She never knew what he'd done to keep the Mara Muerte gang from putting a bullet through her brain.

#23 - Book

Sweets would be damned if a bombshell like _We worked together before the Cleo Eller case _stopped him from writing about the ongoing relationship between his two patients.

#24 - Clown

The next time they dealt with clowns, she demanded to carry his gun. Didn't need him pulled from active duty again because of his (she personally thought ridiculous) fear.

#25 - Parker

He liked Bones - a lot. He just didn't understand why Daddy didn't marry her.

#26 - Reading

He though the sight of her looking through a book of baby names was both adorable and funny.

#27 - Dolphin

When he found her twirling the glass figurine in her hands, he knew she needed to have a friend who'd listen to her.

#28 - Kathy

Her heroine was everything she was - beautiful, intelligent, the best in her field, and supremely confident. The only difference between them was that her alter ego was able to do the one thing she couldn't.

#29 - Identity

Joy Keenan still existed underneath Temperence Brennan, and she always would.

#30 - Fire

Unpredictable, warm, bright, and inviting. And she knew, from personal experience, that he could be just as dangerous as those flickering flames.

#31 - Interns

Sometimes, they get the time to talk about their boss and her FBI agent.

#32 - Ice

He used to agree with Frost - after tasting desire, probably death by fire would be better. But after meeting a steely-eyed woman whose soul was frozen in logic, he would brave any chill to save her.

#33 - Ancestor

She'd said it without intending to hurt him. Sometimes she forgot how sensitive this tough ex-sniper FBI agent was underneath all his strength.

#34 - Knight

The title applied - he protected her every single day from the dragons they hunted. And he did look damn good in that standard-issue body armor...

#35 - War

She knows she can't relate to his past, but she tries to help him live in the present as best she can.

#36 - Letter

"What's this?" he asked, holding up a page - the one she'd ripped from her book. The page that had her last words written while trapped under the ground.

#37 - Alarms

"Oh god, not again," he groaned as the lab's alarms went off and the doors slid shut. "Hodgins, what did you blow up now?"

#38 - Russ

His little sister could've done worse than an FBI agent. But he knew that her partner would never let anything happen to her.

#39 - Abroad

Every time she left, she wondered if it was the right idea. Every time she came back, she swore she wouldn't again - but always broke that promise.

#40 - Zack

She still missed him, sometimes glancing at the squintern of the week as if unsure why they were there.

#41 - System

They had a way of doing things, and it's worked for years.

#42 - Recommendation

Camille Saroyan knew she'd played a huge part in the creation of one of the best crimefighting teams in the country.

#43 - Remains

Her focus truly was incredible; Armegeddon could be going on just down the hall, and she wouldn't look away from her bones.

#44 - Wedding

Booth was still in shock the next day when she came down from the forensics platform and asked him, "What's wrong, Booth?"

#45 - Skull

"Can you really say it in every language?" he asked one evening, true interest glittering in his brown eyes.

#46 - Spotter

When he asked for her help, she experienced a brief moment of fear. What this what he felt when his crosshairs were aimed on a person's chest?

#47 - Fate

He trusts it, she doesn't think it really exists. But it didn't matter - it believed in them.

#48 - Switch

Staring down the smug Gravedigger, she had to fight to keep her face schooled into her poker face. Losing her temper wouldn't help find Booth.

#49 - Parenthood

She worried about it, as she did with all of life's unexpected surprises, but he thought it was an adventure. He always could adapt faster than her.

#50 - Partners

It took some doing - and good couple years of denial - before they took that first step. But they knew it'd been destined to happen the first moment he'd walked into her lecture.

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><p><strong>So, what do you think? Like them? Want some one-shot expansions, perhaps?<strong>

**Review please!**


	2. Car

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_. Dammit.**

**Prompt #1: Car - Some of their best detective work - not to mention arguments - happened in his SUV.**

**Words: 383**

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><p>Some people do their best work in the oddest of places. The office, the bedroom, the kitchen, the garage - strange, and yet it works.<p>

FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan do it in Booth's SUV.

Arguing, brainstorming, crime-solving, analyzing, self-evaluating - they do all that, and more, as they cross all over D.C. and the tri-state area solving crimes. Driving to crime scenes, to the J. Edgar Hoover building, to the Jeffersonian Institute, and back, they got a lot of miles out of that car. Not to mention they managed to fill the long hours of vehicle time by talking.

They talk about everything. From pointless things to the cases they were working on to their own personal issues, they talk about everything. Very rare are the times that they are quiet in the car.

They like to talk about the case they're currently working on. Yes, Sweets has said they use it to avoid other subjects, but that's not the real reason. Talking about the case helps them figure out what the possible motives of the suspects and victim were, as well as brainstorm about evidence and its context. In fact, whenever case-breaking facts the team came up with, they usually call her while she's in the car with Booth.

But, inevitably, something in their case will make them argue. It could be politics, religion, family, or personal interests. When that happens in the SUV, there is nowhere else to go. They don't like it, but they know that they need to either duke it out or sit in silence for the ride. Neither like silence, so they argue.

That's how they learn more about themselves. Like how Booth is touchy about subjects like sex and his personal relationships with other women. Like how Brennan is sometimes confused by simple human emotions and drives. Some of their most intense heart-to-heart revealations have happened in that car. Tears have been shed. Hearts had been broken, and repaired, and strengthened.

That SUV holds a lot of memories for them. Some good, some bad. But it remains the place where they can talk and argue about pretty much everything and anything under the sun.

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><p><strong>Let's get this started! Review please!<strong>


	3. Logic

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_.**

**Prompt #2: Logic - It protected her for so long, allowing her to decipher the mysteries of a skeleton's death. But even her greatest shield couldn't explain what her own heart wanted.**

**Words: 493**

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><p>Temperance Brennan is a woman of logic. That statement alone was an interesting testament to how unique she is.<p>

But very few people understand _why _she is a woman of logic. Few realize that she relies on facts and reason and tangible evidence because she needs to know that it's real. That it's there, something she can see and touch and feel.

That's why she's a forensic anthropologist. Bones don't lie, don't connive, don't pretend to be something they're not. They exist. They tell you everything you need to know about who they were. Looking at a bone, Temperance can determine age, sex, race, and occupation.

Empiricism is her guiding light. A doctrine which holds that the only or, at least, the most reliable source of human knowledge is experience, especially perception by means of the physical senses. It's never let her down before.

Even when it came to Booth. Logic helped her understand many things about Booth. But sometimes, her logic didn't explain everything.

For example, Booth is strong, handsome, and brave - that's a fact. Handsome men, especially handsome alpha males, are logically the better mate for any woman. But in her heart, Temperance knew he was always a gentleman with every woman he was with or spoke to and hated being gossiped about.

Logic also said that his choice in career stemmed from his protective instincts cultivated from his childhood. But Temperance knew he became FBI to atone for the lives he took as a sniper, to alleviate the guilt he felt at taking those shots.

Logically, Booth kept her around because she was the best in her field. But Temperance felt that he didn't really stick around just because she was the best, but because he cared about her.

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><p>Temperance Brennan used to be a woman of logic.<p>

Now, she's not only listening to her head. Her heart has begun to speak up, and it hasn't shut up. Not for several years. Not since Booth took her out of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab and introduced her to the world.

Pesky thing, her heart. Despite stating over and over that the heart is just an organ without voice or sentience, she had begun to notice that it had a lot to say. Particulary about her handsome partner.

Feelings confused Temperance. That's why she stuck with logic. Everything made sense when she dealt with logic.

Dealing with her own heart was a different matter.

Logically, she shouldn't cross that line.

But her heart kept whispering to her, _Why not take that chance?_

It was getting damn hard to ignore it.

But did she want to keep ignoring it?

That was a question logic could not help her answer.

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><p><strong>Special treat - two for one! Review please!<strong>


	4. Luck

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or the episode 2x8, just the DVDs.**

**Prompt #3: Luck - "I haven't lost since we came here," she said with a smile that said infinitely more than her words.**

**Words: 334**

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><p>It's been bugging me since we closed the case.<p>

Why did Bones bet on me during the fight?

It's not like I was the best in my unit. Hell, I was one of the middling guys. There were others, better ones. And my opponent at the Ultimate Fight looked like a shaved younger cousin of King Kong.

So why did she bet on me?

I have to know.

But I don't think she'll tell me. Bones likes her privacy, and her reasons aren't usually something I can understand.

We're packing up from Vegas, leaving Tony and Roxy behind in Sin City. I still ache from the fight, so I'm using my can of soda as an ice pack against the lovely bruise that's starting to form on my forehead. The TV is on, showing us the arrests of the men responsible for killing Billie.

Bones is not happy at the news report. I calm her down and, while she's agreeing, slip in, "So what was the, uh, second reason?"

"What?" She didn't see it coming.

"Uh, you never told me the second reason you bet on me."

"Yeah, it's silly."

Oh, now I gotta know. "Well, c'mon, try me."

"Beginner's luck. I haven't lost at anything since I've been here, so..." She averts her eyes, then looks back at me. "Well I, I figured if I bet on you, then - "

"You couldn't lose," I finish.

She gives a tiny shake of her head. "Sounds silly, right?" She's barely blushing.

But I know what she means. She ignored logic and went with something that had no rhyme or reason to it. Something vague. All because she wanted me to win. "Sounds familiar. Thanks." _Thanks for believing in me._

"You're welcome."

I smile, we grab our bags, and leave the hotel.

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><p><strong>I figured a little insight into Booth's thoughts during The Woman in the Sand was in order. <strong>

**Review please!**


	5. Montreal

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**_Edited on 7/28/11 thanks to a review from AussieinCanada, who pointed out my French snafu. Thanks a lot!_**

**Prompt #4: Montreal - Meeting the other forensic anthropologist in Canada was an interesting experience for him.**

**Words: 1,132**

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><p>Temperance sipped her coffee as she waited for her guest to arrive. She was beyond excited - her good friend and colleague Dr. Laurent was coming all the way from Montreal to the Jeffersonian and helping Temperance identify what could hopefully be ancient Mayan remains from the Yucatan peninsula. The thought of working with another forensic anthropologist, especially one as well-published and accomplished as Dr. Laurent, was as exciting for Temperance as a child waiting up for Santa Claus.<p>

"Hey Bones, what's shaking?" said Booth as he entered her office. Seeing his partner almost bouncing in her chair, he raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you, uh, okay there, Bones?"

"Booth, today I'm going to be working with Dr. Laurent!" she said with a huge smile on her face. "Dr. Laurent is the forensic anthroplogist I told you about, the one in Montreal, remember?"

He did have a vague recollection of her smartass taunt that if he dropped her, he'd have to go to Montreal for another one... "Yeah. So, Dr. Laurent is coming here, huh? Another Bones? Hey, what's Bones in French?"

"_Os_," she said distractedly. "Dr. Laurent is coming to help identify and verify the authenticity of some human remains believed to be ancient Mayans. She's somewhat of an expert on Central American human remains."

"You're really excited about this, aren't you Bones?"

Temperance nodded vigorously, then looked past Booth. "There she is! Sasha!" she called, jumping up and hurrying over to the redheaded woman standing by the automatic entrance doors of the Medico-Legal Lab.

A bright, cheery laugh echoed off the shiny surfaces of the lab. "Tempérance! _Mon amie, _it is so good to see you again!" The two women embraced like old friends and began chattering in rapid French as Temperance led her friend back to her office. Booth stayed where he was, intent on this newcomer and how easily his usually aloof partner loosened up around her.

"Sasha, this is my partner, FBI Agent Seeley Booth," Temperance said by way of introduction. "Booth, my colleague and good friend Dr. Sasha Laurent."

"Dr. Laurent," he said, shaking her hand. Sasha Laurent was a stunning redhead, between thirty to forty years of age, with hawk-sharp green eyes and freckles dusting her pale cheeks. She was quite a looker, not frail but not stout - a rough beauty, if he had to describe her. Her grip on his hand was firm, which told him she was just as hardheaded as his Bones was. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"_Moi aussi_, Agent Booth," replied Sasha, inclining her head. "Tempérance has spoken much about you in her e-mails." She glanced over at Temperance and chuckled. "_Je peux voir pourquoi Kathy a ces rencontres passionnantes. Il est beau, non?_"

"Sasha, _arrête_," Temperance asked, her voice rising with embarrassment. "We should get to identifying those remains, don't you think?"

The other woman smiled easily. "_Oui, oui, bien sûr._" Turning to face Booth, she said, "Agent Booth, it has been a pleasure meeting you." Then she swept off towards the forensic platform, greeting Cam and Angela.

Booth, who had no idea what she had said before, raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said she was Canadian."

"She was born in France," Temperance said, now looking somewhat unsettled. "Booth, did you...understand what she was saying?"

He was tempted to say yes to mess with her, but his Bones looked somewhat rattled. Whatever French-Bones had said really made her uncomfortable. "No. Latin's my thing, remember?"

She barely, barely concealed her relief. "Okay then."

"Why? Was she insulting me?"

"No, not insulting. Just...observing," Temperance said in a vague, distracted tone. "I, uh, I'm going to go help her. See you later?"

Before he could reply, she hurried off after her colleague.

Okay, _now _he really wanted to know.

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><p>After the two bone ladies were heavily engrossed in their ancient remains, Booth was able to snag Angela and ask her about the conversation, and if she could, being Bones's friend, could she find out what it was about and maybe tell Booth about it later?<p>

Angela was more than happy to help out.

After Sasha left for her hotel, the forensic artist caught up with Temperance and said, "So, Sasha seemed interested in Booth."

Temperance's eyes flitted away from her friend's gaze. "She had some things to say about it."

"Oh? Like what?"

Angela watched her best friend worry her bottom lip, glance around to make sure they were alone, then lean forward and whisper, "She said she could see why Kathy had such passionate encounters, and that he was handsome."

The dark-haired forensic artist grinned like a cat fat on stolen cream. "Sweetie, is that why you're so fidgety? Because Sasha hit on Booth? He didn't even know what she said!"

"But she said it, and she - I'm - Booth is - "

Angela shook her head in surprise. The normally cool and collected Temperance Brennan was stuttering like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Sweetie, calm down. She was probably just making an observation."

"She could've been his partner, Angela." Clear blue eyes looked up at her with realization and panic in them. "When Booth tricked me at the airport, I threatened to not work with him. I told him the next nearest forensic anthropologist was Sasha, in Montreal. If he hadn't kept pestering me...if he hadn't let me work the case with him...he'd be - "

_She's really getting worked up over this, _Angela realized with surprise. She'd thought it was just a little harmless flirting, but Temperance was obviously overthinking the whole thing. Taking her shoulders, she said, "Brennan, relax. Booth is _your _FBI agent. That's not going to change because a pretty woman said some pretty French words his way. He's always going to stay with you."

Temperance nodded, knowing her friend was speaking the truth. "Can you not tell him?" she asked.

"He's kind of expecting me to."

"Just tell him what Sasha said, but not - not what we talked about," Temperance begged.

Angela nodded. "Sure, sweetie." _You can tell him in your own time_.

Hidden around the corner, Booth quickly walked away before either woman noticed he was there.

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><p><strong>That one line in the pilot was nagging at me, so that's where this came from!<strong>

**Review please!**


	6. Jasper

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #5: Jasper - The little pig meant the world to her. Not only because Booth gave it to her, but because he remembered something like that in passing.**

**Words: 583**

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><p>It had been five days since Booth had been shot.<p>

Five days since Pam Nunan leveled a gun at Temperance as she sang "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."

Five days since Booth stepped in front of the gun and took the bullet.

Five days since she begged him not to leave her.

She holed up in her apartment for the first two days. Only moving from her bed to go to the bathroom and get food, Temperance just stayed curled up on her comforter.

Sometimes she cried. She cried a lot. More than any other time in her life. Even more than when her parents disappeared. Because she knew now, without a doubt, that Booth was never coming back.

Sometimes she cursed. Cursed Pam for shooting her. Cursed Booth for being so damn heroic all the time. Cursed Booth for being so damn protective of her. Cursed him for being Booth, her friend and partner and the only man who had really, truly, wormed his way into her heart so deeply that his death had left a gaping hole.

Sometimes she pulled out her computer and wrote. But that didn't help at all. She'd type in a fog, and when she went back to read it, Kathy Reichs was always going through some kind of tragedy that usually ended with the death of her partner, Special Agent Andy Lister. That just pushed Temperance even deeper into depression, until finally she locked her laptop away in her desk.

That's when she found Jasper.

A little pig that Booth had bought her after a small remark about always wanting one. A toy one, but a pig nonetheless. The sentiment was felt and appreciated, especially after the crappy day of playing Howard Epps's sick, twisted game.

She hadn't expected the gesture. Random questions during the whole investigation, whispers among the team about buying her a pig, and his own attempts at cheering her up only made sense after his hands opened up and revealed his little present to her.

Picking up the little pig, Temperance walked back to her bed and sat cross-legged on it. Jasper looked up at her with his smiling eyes, just as he always had when she held him in her hands after a trying case. She brushed her thumb along the pig's side, trying to recall those feelings of calm. But she couldn't.

She missed Booth. She missed him too much.

And now Jasper was the only reminder she had of him.

Clutching the pig close, Temperance curled up on her bedspread again. "Booth," she sobbed, feeling fresh tears stream down her cheeks. "Booth, you promised. You promised you'd never leave me like my parents did."

But he didn't answer. And he couldn't answer her ever again.

The next day, she got up, got dressed, and went back to work at the Jeffersonian. She refused to think about him or anything else remotely emotional in nature. She had remains to identify.

But tonight, as she'd done every night since, she came home, took Jasper in her hands, and cried herself to sleep. The next morning, she'd go back to work. Nightfall, she'd clutch Jasper again and cry. And the cycle continued.

That's how she made it through the two weeks until Booth's funeral.

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><p><strong>I thought about what maybe happened in those two weeks after Booth got shot and before his "funeral." This popped out. Severe angst.<strong>

**Review please!**


	7. Seeley

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #6: Seeley - Only his surname is able to escape her lips. Not for a lack of trying.**

**Words: 284**

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><p>Seeley.<p>

It's a simple enough name to say.

Why can't I say it?

We've been partners for almost six years. Friends for just as long. Friends call each other by their first names.

Don't they?

I call Angela by her first name, and Cam by hers. I called Zack by his first name. I sometimes call Hodgins by his first name.

I don't call Sweets by his because he's younger than me. And it's not professional.

Maybe that's why I don't call Booth by his first name. It's not professional.

But even when we're just hanging out, I don't call him Seeley.

I can't.

It's like a physical impossibility. Every time I try, my throat closes up on me. _Seeley _won't come out, but _Booth _flies through without a problem.

What is wrong with me?

We're friends. Close friends. Best friends, I'd hope to say.

Why can't I say his first name?

I've heard other women say his name. Rebecca, Tessa, Katherine.

But I never can.

He's used mine. Temperance. Only when it's a stressful situation.

But mostly it's Bones, and I like that one. It's cute, and unique, and mine. He doesn't call anybody else Bones. It's always just me.

I really want to try saying his first name. Just once.

I wonder what it'll sound like when I say it.

Maybe he'll like it.

Does he think the same thing?

I wonder...

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><p><strong>Ever wonder why she never says his name? I did, and this appeared.<strong>

**Review please!**


	8. Temperance

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #7: Temperance - She's heard her name spoken by many different men, but only Booth's voice was able to make her heart flutter.**

**Words: 1,504**

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><p>"Temperance!"<p>

Hearing her name, she sat up straighter. But when she turned around, it wasn't Booth calling her name, but his younger brother Jared. Baby Booth, as Angela liked to call him. The brothers had similar voices, so it wasn't a surprise that Temperance thought her partner was calling her.

"Hey Tempe, I didn't think you'd come," Jared admitted, sliding into a seat across the table from her. "What's up? You sounded a little stressed on the phone."

She nervously tucked strands of her brown hair behind her ear. "Jared, I'd like to ask you a question, and I'd like an honest answer from you."

He nodded, curiosity mingling with confusion on his face. "Sure, Tempe. What is it?"

Temperance rubbed her thumb over her knuckles, trying to think of how to word her question without sounding too strange about it. "Well...why doesn't Booth call me by my first name?"

Jared frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He always calls me Bones. He never calls me Temperance."

It had been a random comment from her father the other day that spurred Temperance to ask her partner's brother about this. Max had remarked how Booth never used her given name, then wondered why, wasn't it a nice name? This had prompted the anthropologist to think about it, going through every memory she had of their partnership, noticing that her father was right. Barring times of extreme emotional stress, and even then it was rare, Booth did not refer to her by her given name. He always called her Bones.

The younger Booth thought for a few seconds. "I honestly can't answer that, Tempe," he finally said. "Seeley has his own reasons for doing things, and he doesn't share them a lot of the time. Maybe you should ask him."

"That would be awkward. Booth hates awkward questions. Almost as much as he hates questions about sex."

Jared smirked at her, and for one heart-stopping moment, Temperance's mind put the elder Booth brother across the table from her. "Yeah, he always did hate sex questions. Tempe, I think I know what this is about. Are you worried that Seeley doesn't like you?"

Her eyes dropped to her coffee cup. "He's more...comfortable around other women," she admitted. "He can call them by their first names. I like that he calls me Bones, but why won't he call me Temperance?"

She couldn't tell him the true reason. That she wanted to know how her name sounds in his voice, without fear or reassurance or any other case-related emotion coloring his tone. She wanted to hear him call her Temperance the same way he calls Angela, or Cam, or Rebecca. Like he used to call Hannah.

But Jared just shrugged. "Tempe, I'm not the person to ask. You really ought to ask Seeley." His eyes glanced over her shoulder, and that Booth smirk returned. "Speak of the devil. Seeley!"

Temperance froze. _Booth?_

"Sorry I'm late, traffic's a bear out there." And before she could fabricate a story to leave, Seeley Booth dropped into the chair next to hers, effectively cutting off her escape. "Hey Bones, what's up?"

"Well, I better get going," Jared said, standing up. Temperance cut a desperate look up at him which he swiftly overlooked, grinning at his older brother and saying, "Tempe just asked me a fascinating question, Seeley, but I couldn't give her an answer. Why don't you try?"

Temperance threw him a dirty glare as he left. Then she faced her partner, who was looking very intently at her. "So, what's this question?" he asked as the waitress brought him a cup of coffee. She licked her lips and rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. Her nervousness made Booth concerned, evident in the way he asked, "Bones?"

"Why do you call me that?" Nerves made her voice unnaturally sharp. "Why Bones?"

Booth actually blinked, which for him was the same as recoiling. "Hey, wha, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Why do you always call me Bones?" Temperance wasn't budging without an answer now.

He frowned. "Why are you on this now? It's been six years, Bones. I thought we got past that already."

"You can call other women by their first names - Cam, Angela, Rebecca." Her tone was caustic, fueled by panic and some irrational fear at his refusal to answer her. "Why not me? Why am I different?"

Booth, still confused, tried to answer. "Bones, you've always been different. You're my partner."

Wrong thing to say.

Temperance stood up and walked out before she lost herself. Walking briskly down the sidewalk, she went in a direction that vaguely headed towards the Reflecting Pool. She drew up short, remembering their promise to meet up after a year, but coming back after seven months to save Cam's job. Five months early - but too late anyway. He found Hannah, and by the time Temperance realized her own feelings, it had been too late to matter.

"Bones!" came his shout from behind. He'd come after her. Like he always did. _Goddamn him_. "Bones!"

"Go away, Booth!" she shouted, quickening her pace. "Leave me alone!"

"Not until you tell me what I did wrong!" he answered. "Don't run away Bones, it's all you ever do. Temperance, wait!"

She froze in mid-step. A thrill shot through her body at the way he said her name, making her shiver. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. And she wanted to feel it again.

Ignoring where she stopped (which was a deserted strip of walkway just a few blocks shy of the Reflecting Pool) she spun around to face her partner. Booth halted a few feet from her, his hands dropping to his knees to support his doubled-over body as he caught his breath. "Just...stop..._running _from me," he wheezed. "Geez, Bones..."

"Say my name."

He looked up and met her gaze. She was desperate, just like when they were solving the mystery of Dr. Lauren Eames and she was positive that the victim looked like her...desperate, and terrified. _But nothing terrifies Bones, _his brain argued.

His heart contended with, _She's terrified of being forgotten. Of being left behind. Of being alone._

"Say my name, Booth," she demanded.

Booth reached out to her. "Temperance," he said softly, gently. "Temperance, come here."

And she did. Right into his arms. Booth caught her and held her close. "It's okay Bo...Temperance, it's okay. Just breathe, Temperance, I got you. I got you."

"Why won't you call me Temperance all the time?" she whispered, holding tightly to him.

_That's a good question_, his heart replied cheekily. _Why don't you call her Temperance? It's a lot better than Bones. Prettier._

But Booth knew why he never called her by her given name. There was a line between them, a line he was coming closer and closer to crossing. He called her Bones to remind him that he couldn't take her. She was his friend, his best friend. She had to stay that way.

He couldn't bear to hurt her if he screwed up. He loved her too much.

But with his beautiful, intelligent, desperate partner in his arms, clutching him closer to her as she dry-sobbed against his chest and begged him to call her Temperance, Booth felt his resolve crumbling.

"I don't call you Temperance," he whispered, "because it - it's too personal. It makes me want to make you mine. You're Bones, my best friend and my partner, and you're a part of the world. But if you're Temperance, I only want you to be part of my world." His arms tightened around her. "And I don't want to scare you away, Bones. I don't want to lose you."

Before Temperance could respond, he released her and walked back towards the diner.

* * *

><p>BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!<p>

"Ugh," Temperance groaned, rolling over in her bed to turn off her alarm clock. "What the hell was that?" She'd had the strangest dream...it was about her, and Booth, and she'd run a long way...

But it was slipping away from her, like water through a sieve. As she woke up more, she forgot more about it, until she could only remember one thing.

This pressing, nagging feeling that somehow, for some reason, she wanted to hear Booth say her first name.

* * *

><p><strong>This turned into a dream-sequence without meaning to. But I really like it! Don't you?<strong>

**Review!**


	9. Believe

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or the movie references used.**

**Prompt #8: Believe - He had his religion, she had her facts. They disagreed at times, but respected the other's faith.**

**Words: 615**

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><p>"Why do you believe in God?"<p>

Booth rolled his eyes and glanced over at his partner. "C'mon Bones, are we really having this conversation?"

She looked at him seriously. "It's a serious question, Booth. Why do you believe in God? There's no physical evidence that supports the existance of a divine being who created and is in charge of the universe."

Booth had a reply waiting. "Okay then, what about the creation of the universe?"

"The Big Bang," she replied promptly.

"God made the earth in seven days."

"Experiments on soil places the earth's age around four point fifty-four billion years."

He scowled. "Adam and Eve, first man and woman. She bit the apple and brought down original sin."

"Human evolution. Darwinism."

"God," he breathed, not as an example but as an explicative.

But Temperance went with it. "A single ideal brought on by a collected conscious delusion that some higher power has to be involved in the day-to-day experiences of the world so that human beings don't feel alone or responsible for how they are."

_There is no way to win with this woman. _A thought came to him. "You're saying I can't prove that God exists?"

"Absolutely," his partner replied. "There is a logical explanation for everything in nature that does not require the added necessity of a divine being that controls their destiny."

A grin touched his face. "Then I have the question for you. If you can't answer this question, will you leave this alone?"

"I doubt you can prove this, but all right," Temperance agreed.

Booth nodded. "Okay then. Now, you hypothesize that God doesn't exist because you can't measure him, right?"

Temperance nodded. "There is no physical evidence that proves the existance of God or any sort of deity."

"So, if it's not substantial or tangible or measureable, there's no way it can be real. If there's no evidence, it's not real."

She nodded. "That is what I'm saying. Was that your question?"

"No. This is." Booth regarded her for a moment. "Did you love your mother?"

The random question made her blink in shock. "What?"

"Your mother," Booth repeated. "Did you love her?"

"Yes," she said after a beat. "Very much. You know that, Booth."

The look in his eyes was challenging, but gentle. "Prove it."

Temperance blinked again, then frowned. "What?"

"Prove that you loved your mother," Booth repeated. "Can you measure it? Can you define it? Can you touch it?" With each question he watched his partner's frown get deeper and more confused.

It was a good few minutes later that Temperance was able to respond. Even then, she sounded like she was struggling to get the words out. "I - I can't. Not in scientific terms."

Booth looked over at her. "Bones, I believe you did love your mother. I believe you still do," he assured her. "But that feeling you're feeling right now? That's what I feel when you question if God exists."

"It's not a good feeling," she admitted. Blue eyes met his. "Okay, Booth, I get it. I'll...stop questioning."

He shook his head. "You don't have to stop, just...be more delicate about it. Some people take their beliefs very seriously." He pointed to her cup. "Want more coffee?"

"Sure."

He waved the waitress down.

* * *

><p><strong>Review please!<strong>

**This came to me as I watched a movie I really liked. Virtual chocolate to those who know the movie and what I drew from it! **

**Hint: movie was released in 1997.**


	10. Foreigner

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or episode 1x15 "Two Bodies in the Lab."**

**Prompt #9: Foreigner - She'd never had a favorite artist until he put in that CD and started jamming out.**

**Words: 365**

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><p>Temperance Brennan had lots of different music in her collection.<p>

Some came from her childhood. Poco, Cyndi Lauper, some of her parents' favorite artists. They stayed with her all through college, keeping their memories alive. Sometimes, when she was really lonely and up late working on her papers, she'd pop one in and work to the sounds of her parents' oldies.

Some came from her travels around the world. Tibetian throat singers was one of them. She played it to relax, sometimes to sleep. Other tribal types of music also made it into her stacks as well. As an anthropologist, she understood the cultural diversity that stemmed into creative audio selections, and so she had multiple selections of said audio.

When she discovered jazz, it filled up a good bit of her library. She loved the free-form of it all, especially how free an artist could be while still maintaining basic rules of conception. Freedom, but still contained. Paradoxal.

Some more music came from newer things. She hit the pop and rap cycles of the mainstream, picked what she liked from the R&B scene, and even picked out a couple tracks of trance. Soon her library became an eclectic hodgepodge of genres that stretched all over the place.

But they were just music. She didn't really have a favorite artist, or a favorite song. Temperance had songs to play when she was tired, or when she needed to focus on work, or when she just wanted background noise.

Then she was shot at, and Booth ordered her home and went home with her. He started poking through her music, then found one CD she could not remember buying.

When "Hot Blooded" blasted out of her speakers, Temperance found herself bobbing to the beat as he air guitar-ed in her living room. This song made her smile. It made her want to dance. This song made her think, _I found my favorite song._

So, with a spectacular high kick, Temperance joined her partner in his air guitar session and belted out the lyrics with him.

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><p><strong>Meh, random drabble. S'okay, I guess.<strong>


	11. Culture

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #10: Culture - "I don't know what that means," has become one of his favorite phrases since he started working with her.**

**Words: 432**

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><p>He first realized how cute she was when he agreed to their renewed partnership on the Cleo Eller job. He had accepted her terms for fieldwork and full partnership, and when she demanded to be certain, he had said, "We're Scully and Mulder."<p>

And she replied, "I don't know what that means."

* * *

><p>Six little words.<p>

Other people can say them every day. Then again, "other people" doesn't include Bones. When she says it, it's always about things that other people know.

She can tell you so much about other cultures, but her own, the one she lives in? Very rarely is she informed about it.

Celebrities. Slang. TV shows. Inside jokes. Even some simple idioms.

"I don't know what that means," can appear without warning. Sometimes it shows up when Booth isn't expecting it. Sometimes, she surprises him.

But sometimes she can get it. Sometimes she understands the most surprising things. Like that time they investigated the Jersey Shore case; she thought she'd watched a documentary when she'd actually watched a reality show, but surprisingly she understood the culture better than Booth did.

And she's always so proud of herself when she gets it.

But mostly, unless by some random coincidence she knew the reference from something related to anthropology, her fallback was always the same.

Those six words.

* * *

><p>When she told him she was pregnant, shock was his first emotional response. Then before he could ask, she added, "It's yours."<p>

As if he could ever doubt that.

When he didn't respond, she spoke very quickly. "I hope this doesn't impede our ability to cohesively function in the field. I know I can still be quite useful in a supportive standpoint in case I can't venture out of the Jeffersonian..."

Her babbling was adorable. As was her use of very big words, which Booth could barely understand. So he cut in and said, "I don't know what that means."

She paused. Her eyes widened as she noticed his choice of wording. When she opened her mouth, her speech was slower and more precise. "I hope this doesn't change anything between us. We can still be partners, right?"

He grinned at her. "Of course, Bones."

"Are you sure?"

Booth gave her a snarky look. "What, you kidding? We're ebony and ivory."

"I don't know what that means."

* * *

><p><strong>Another drabble. Cuteness.<strong>


	12. Spooky

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_, but I would love my own knight in FBI standard-issue body armor.**

**Prompt #11: Spooky - It was almost like staring at doppelgangers, Angela thought, seeing how the teenage boy was so protective of his female best friend. It made her think of how Booth protected Brennan, just younger.**

**Words: 2,483**

* * *

><p>Timothy Dalton sat in the interrogation room and fixed Special Agent Booth with a focused stare. "There a reason I'm here?" he asked, trying to be polite without putting too much attitude into his voice.<p>

"Yeah Timothy, there is," said the burly agent. "We brought you in because we think you know something about Michael Gunther." He slid a picture of the man in front of Timothy. "You know him as Mickey G?"

"Yeah, I know him," Timothy admitted. "Bastard runs numbers on the east side. He's a shark."

Agent Booth leaned on the table and forward into Timothy's space. "We have a witness who says you were arguing with Mickey G two nights ago."

Smelling a trap, Timothy narrowed his eyes at Booth. "Yeah. I used to run for him a while back. Got out of it."

"How?"

But Timothy didn't respond. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. So Booth said, "Look, we just want Mickey. Nobody's seen him since you argued with him."

"Probably hit one of his safehouses," Timothy guessed. "He goes to ground when Feds are on his ass."

Booth tilted his head to the side, as if gauging him. Then he pulled out another picture and placed it over Mickey's. "Know her?"

Timothy looked - and almost lost his calm. Booth spoke again. "Hayley Rivers. Known numbers runner for Mickey. She's been missing for two days too." He leaned forward again, invading Timothy's personal space even more. "What a coincidence. Your friend goes missing the same time Mickey does."

"Twist had nothing to do with it," Timothy snapped.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Twist, huh? Closer than a friend, I guess."

"We're just friends." Timothy's voice was charged with protective ire. "We grew up together."

"So where is she?"

"I don't know."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, behind the two-way mirror, Sweets sat with Angela and watched the interview. The psychologist raised an eyebrow. "Twist?" he repeated.<p>

"Obviously a nickname," Angela said. "Kinda cute. I wonder how she got it."

"Perhaps some aspect of her personality attributed to its conception," Sweets mused. "Much like how Agent Booth's nickname for Dr. Brennan was concieved by her occupation."

"She must mean something to Timothy," said Angela. "A close friend. If he knows where she is, he could be protecting her."

Sweets shook his head. "Yeah, but not happening." He clicked on the microphone so that Booth could hear him through the earbud. "He honestly has no idea where Hayley is right now. He's clearly worried about her and her safety."

"You know, he kinda reminds me of Booth." Angela crossed her arms in thought. "You know? Really tough, but not as brutish as he looks."

* * *

><p>Booth straightened up and took the pictures back. "Tell me why a nice girl like Hayley Rivers is running numbers for a guy like Mickey G."<p>

Timothy sat back angrily, but he knew he had to talk. He reached out with one arm and tapped the tabletop a couple times. His blue eyes looked at Booth with clear truthfulness and anger. "Twist is only working for Mickey because he's got her dad on the screws," he said. "Mickey's a loan shark. Twist's dad borrowed some money from him, and he couldn't pay it back. So Twist started to run numbers to make up the difference. Pretty soon, she got in too deep." He dragged his hand over his face. "I tried to get her out of it, but...once you get in with Mickey, you either get out quick or you get knocked off."

"You got out," Booth remarked.

Timothy shrugged. "Had a smackdown. I walked away with a concussion, broken arm and collarbone. Twist had to take me to the hospital."

"When was this?"

"Two years ago."

* * *

><p>When Booth and Temperance walked into the observation room, they watched Timothy as he buried his face in his crossed arms on the table. "I don't think he's responsible for the death of that call girl," Booth said, "but he's definitely involved. Mickey disappeared the same night he's seen arguing with Timothy. Something obviously went down."<p>

"Booth, are you still looking for Hayley?" Temperance asked. "She could still be in danger."

"D.C. cops have that APB. Assuming she hasn't skipped town, we'll find her." He flipped open the folder he was holding. "You know these two, they aren't exactly peas in a pod. He's a troublemaking jock with a juvie rap sheet for assault, she's an honor student who works a part-time job for tuition."

"Anthropologically speaking, it makes sense that they stay together. His alpha male protectiveness streak is almost as big as yours," Temperance remarked. "I've looked over Hayley's information, and she is a slight girl. Timothy is bigger and stronger and he obviously cares about her." Her cool blue eyes looked up to her partner. "He's very worried about her, but he's smart enough to not implicate himself, Booth."

Booth closed the file. "You think you can get him to tell you more, Bones?"

She nodded. "I believe I can, Booth."

* * *

><p>The door opened. In walked Dr. Brennan, who Timothy could tell was a woman of facts. "We know you're telling the truth, Timothy," she said. "We got a court order for your X-rays, and they match with your story. The hospital also had a record of you and Hayley there the night of the fight."<p>

"Just like I told Agent Booth," Timothy said, but with a more polite tone of voice. He knew when to apply his manners.

"We also looked up Hayley's records." Dr. Brennan opened the file in her hands. "Every time she was admitted to the ER, you were always there with her. You never left her side."

"I never hurt her," he said quickly.

"I know. The breaks were too severe for someone of your size and build." Dr. Brennan smiled at him. "You looked out for her. You care about her."

He nodded. "Twist is my best friend, Doc. If she's missing, I need to be looking for her." His eyes were pleading. "Please, you have to let me go. I gotta find her."

The woman stood up. "Booth is doing all he can to find her, Timothy. I promise, we'll find her."

* * *

><p>Caroline Julian pursed her lips in annoyance. "Cherie, I want Mickey G. I want him now."<p>

"We're still looking for the girl, Caroline," Booth said. "If we find her, maybe we can find Mickey."

The prosecutor sighed. Temperance stepped in to say, "Maybe when we do find her, we don't have to question her."

Booth frowned. "Bones, what are you talking about?"

"When we get her, move Timothy to the conference room. He's been in the system, Booth. He knows the interrogation room is wired. We put them in there, watch from the cameras, while they talk it out." She looked very pleased with herself for thinking of this solution.

Caroline grinned. "I like the way you think, cherie."

* * *

><p>Timothy had been sitting in the conference room for almost an hour before two agents walked in, holding a teenage girl in their arms. They left her in the doorway, and she was so stunned to see Timothy that she almost collapsed.<p>

"Twist?" he exclaimed, getting to his feet to catch the girl before she fell on her face. "Twist, what are you doing here?"

"FBI. They pulled me off the streets, Dalton. What's going on?" she asked him, straightening up and clutching his elbows as confusion covered her face.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you," Timothy snapped. "Mickey's gone, and the cops think you have something to do with it."

She shook her head. "No, Dalton, I don't. I haven't seen Mickey since that night. What's going on? Why are we here?"

"Callie's dead, Twist." He hugged her tightly, knowing how she'd been friends with the call girl. "Cops think Mickey had something to do with it." Now that they were out of the interrogation room with its cameras and microphones, Timothy felt it was safe to talk. "It's not good, Twist. We're the last ones who saw Mickey before he made like smoke in a windstorm." She was still shaken up, so he guided her to a chair and poured her some water from the pitcher on the table. "Now, where the hell have you been?"

Hayley took a long drink, then took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "I didn't go home," she said. "I stayed off the grid. Hid out in some abandoned buildings, tent cities..." She twisted a lock of her hair nervously. "Had to steal some food, I was too scared to use an ATM..."

"Jesus Twist, what didn't you come find me?" Timothy said, clearly hurt.

She looked at him. "I didn't want you to get involved, Dalton. Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself." She said this in a tone that booked no argument.

Timothy rested his elbow on the table and propped his forehead against his fist. "Twist, this is Mickey G we're talking about. I can help protect you from him."

"I can protect myself, Dalton."

"Okay. Just...tell me what happened."

* * *

><p>In the Jeffersonian, the rest of the team was watching the feed from Angela's office as she recorded and analyzed the video for tells. Hodgins frowned a little. "Does anyone else notice something familiar about them?"<p>

"Angela already drew a parallel between Dalton and Booth," Sweets said. "Their behavioral similarities and - "

"No, I see it too," Cam said, peering closer at the screen. "Just watch, and listen some more."

* * *

><p>Timothy held her hand as his best friend told him everything that had happened. After he'd left, she'd dropped off money for Mickey and he'd reamed her out for trying to squirm out of their arrangement. She got scared when he threatened her with his gun, so she ran. Mickey chased her five blocks before giving up. From there, she stayed low and out of trouble until the FBI picked her up.<p>

When she finished, Hayley reached over and held his hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry, Dalton."

He frowned. "Why?"

"If you weren't there arguing with Mickey about me, you wouldn't have been a suspect."

The teenage boy snorted. "Twist, don't do that. It's okay. Really. I'm just glad you're safe."

"But Mickey's still out there," Hayley said, fear creeping back into her eyes. "He'll go after my dad, Dalton. I know he will."

"Hey, look at me." When she did, Timothy did his best to look confident and reassuring. "Nothing is going to happen to you or your old man. I promise."

* * *

><p>Angela raised an eyebrow. "Okay, did anyone else see that?"<p>

"They're surprisingly like Booth and Dr. Brennan," Cam said. "Just...younger, and not as...odd."

"Creepy," Hodgins said firmly. "Like, Twilight Zone-creepy."

Sweets shrugged. "The dynamic itself isn't very unusual for childhood friends of opposite genders. The boy wishes to protect his female best friend, while she wants to be strong enough to not rely on his protection. We're just used to seeing it in Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan."

"Sweets, we were talking about the nicknaming thing," Angela informed him.

The psychologist blinked. "Oh, that. It's because she twists her hair when she'd emotionally worked up."

* * *

><p>Hours later, Timothy and Hayley were released. Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan offered them a ride back to Hayley's house, so the four headed down for the lobby.<p>

Timothy could feel something was wrong the minute they stepped outside. Looking around, he spotted a familiar face walking up the street towards them. Mickey G, back from his underground safehouse. In his hand was a gun. He had it pointed at Hayley.

"Twist!" Timothy shouted, tackling her to the ground as a gunshot went off. Something seared his shoulder with red-hot pain, making him curse a blue streak. He heard people screaming, running, and another gunshot. He heard Mickey give a shout of pain, followed by shouts of "FBI! Drop the weapon!"

But all his ears registered was the sound of Hayley's voice screaming, "Dr. Brennan, help! Dalton's been shot!"

* * *

><p>Angela was archiving her files when Hodgins came in later that night. "Hey there, baby," he said, kissing his wife on the cheek. "You about ready to go?"<p>

She kissed him back, then said, "Almost. Look at this."

Hodgins looked at the screenshot she pulled up. "Isn't that the security camera out front of the J. Edgar Hoover building?"

"This is security footage from this afternoon," Angela clarified. They watched Booth, Brennan, Timothy, and Hayley head out onto the sidewalk. "Now watch. Right - there! Booth and Timothy _both _tense up, then start looking around."

The bug-and-slime guy blinked. "Wow. I see what you mean."

"But that's not the weirdest thing. Keep watching." They watched as Timothy screamed his best friend's name, then tackled her to the ground. Angela rewound it, then pointed to Booth and Brennan. "Watch them now."

Hodgins obeyed. When Timothy screamed "Twist!" Booth immediately turned, saw Mickey G, and tackled Brennan to the ground at the same time Timothy did to Hayley. Then he rolled off, drew his sidearm, and dropped Mickey with a shot to the shoulder.

Husband and wife looked at each other. "That was...very freaky," remarked Hodgins. "Mirror-image freaky."

"It's like, mini-Booth and mini-Brennan," Angela said.

"Complete with the nickname and willingness to take a bullet," Hodgins finished.

Angela looked at the footage one more time. _Never thought I'd see it in somebody else, _she thought, shaking her head slightly. Then, shutting down the Angelator, she packed up and left with her husband.

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><p><strong>This turned into a very long fic, which is why it took so long to update. I apologize.<strong>

**Please let me know how you like it!**


	13. Return

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #12: Return - When his father reappeared after so many years, he had to contend with more than just his eldest son.**

**Words: 1,007**

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><p>Hank Booth fidgeted in his seat as he waited. "I don't think this was such a good idea."<p>

"It's the only way," replied Temperance Brennan. "I'm grateful you called me, Hank."

"I still think Shrimp should be here."

Temperance shook her head. "Hank, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself and you if things get violent." She crossed her ankles and leaned back in the armchair, cracking her knuckles with a calm look on her face.

Inside, she was gearing up for a fight. From the bits and pieces she'd heard over the years about Booth's father, this man was a drunk who liked to smack his kids around whenever he damn well pleased. Then, when Hank finally ordered him to go, his father up and left them.

A few days ago, Hank had called Temperance and told her that his son was returning to D.C. She'd immediately driven over to his retirement home and asked to know when Booth's father would be arriving. On that day, Temperance had shown up again and refused to leave without speaking to Joseph Booth herself.

The thought occurred to her that maybe Booth would want to know, but Temperance quickly squashed that thought. Booth wouldn't want her meeting his father, and for good reason. But this was something she had to do.

Booth always protected her. Now she had a chance to repay the favor.

* * *

><p>"Dad?"<p>

"In here," Hank called out.

His son stepped into the room, letting the light hit him fully. Joseph Booth hadn't changed much in the twenty years he'd been gone. His gut may have expanded and his hair was grayer, but other than that, he looked exactly the same as Hank recalled. He looked like the same man he'd walked in on beating Seeley and Jared within an inch of their lives, before telling him to get out.

"Why are you here, Joseph?" Hank asked him coldly.

The other man had the nerve to look surprised. "Dad, I just came in to say hello. I was driving through D.C. and I realized we haven't spoken in a while." He looked around. "The boys around?"

"No. I didn't tell them you were coming."

Joseph frowned. "What, why? I'm their father, Dad."

Another voice broke into their discussion. "It doesn't mean you are automatically allowed to see them after disappearing for over twenty years."

From the shadows stepped Temperance, her blue eyes bright with anger. Hank felt himself flinch at the amount of emotion he felt pouring off the slender anthropologist, and she was on his side. He couldn't imagine what his son was thinking.

"Who's the babe?" said Booth's father, looking her up and down appreciatively.

"If your facial structure wasn't extremely similar to Booth's and Jared's, I wouldn't even put you in the same gene pool as them," she replied icily. Her examination of his body was a disgusted survey of his skeletal structure. "Cam was right. Once you get over the height and muscle mass, you're just a bully."

Now Joseph's face clouded with anger. "Cam? Camille Saroyan?" he spat. "What's that bitch saying about me?"

Hank made to step in, but Temperance held up a hand to stop him. "She's not the only one," she directed to her partner's father. "I've learned a lot about you, Joseph Booth. Like how you used to beat Booth and Jared in your drunken rages."

"I _disciplined _my children," he replied, obviously fighting to keep his cool. A spark of recognition lit up his eyes. "You know my sons. How are Jared and Seeley?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Why do you care?"

"They're my sons, aren't they?" A grin touched his mouth. "I bet they're military men, just like me. Jared liked ships, so he's probably a Navy boy. And Seeley? Where did he go into?"

Hank decided to give him that much. "He was in the Rangers, Joseph. A sniper."

"Ah, the long-gun killer. Always thought he had it in him." There a note of pride in his voice that made Temperance hate him even more. Then Joseph's eyes turned back onto her. "So, you obviously know Seeley and Jared. Which of my boys scored a feisty fox like you?"

WHAM!

Hank jumped when he saw his son go down, courtesy of Temperance's deadly right hook. She stood over him and practically snarled, "If you ever come near me or my family again, I will hunt you down and shoot you." Grabbing him by his collar, she dragged Joseph Booth to the door and threw him out. "Don't ever come back!" she shouted, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p>It was close to one in the morning when she arrived home. Kicking off her shoes, Temperance changed into a loose T-shirt and sleeping pants and crawled into bed.<p>

Her companion turned over and sleepily muttered, "Where have you been?"

"Had to see somebody," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Set some records straight."

"Have fun, did you?"

Her smile was proud, but sad. After all, she had to punch somebody. Violence was never a good answer for anything. But she knew it had been a necessary choice.

"Bones?"

She looked at Booth, then kissed him softly. "I made my point, Booth," she said. "And that's what I set out to do."

He nodded, then closed his eyes and fell back asleep. Temperance snuggled up next to his body and sighed, shutting her own eyes. _I will never let him hurt you again, _she promised as she fell asleep beside her partner.

* * *

><p><strong>Loser dad: 0. Temperance Brennan: 1. Win to Temperance!<strong>

**Review please!**


	14. Eyes

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones. _If I did, we wouldn't have had to deal with Hannah. Ugh.**

**Prompt #13: Eyes - Some people had called them icy, chilled by her hyper-rationality and search for emperical facts. But he knew the fire that dwelled in those depths could make them sparkle like sapphires.**

**Words: 412**

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><p>"The eyes are the window to the soul."<p>

Seeley Booth has heard that saying many times before. But it's not always true. Sometimes, what you see in someone's eyes depends greatly on how you interpret it all.

Most people, when they see Temperance Brennan's blue eyes, see ice. And facts. And no-nonsense.

That's all true. Temperance is all about that facts, the hard evidence. She doesn't like speculation, or conjecture, or intuition. She trusts what she can see and hear and measure on all her high-tech gadgets.

So yes, her eyes look icy to the untrained eye. Yes, some people have called her cold, and rude, and a sociopath. But Booth has been peering into the eyes of psychos and sociopaths his entire career in the FBI. Temperance Brennan is not one of them.

What she is, however, is a careful woman. A woman with a damaged past is always careful around people. Especially around people she's never sure about. So she puts up her emperical front and hides herself behind her education, reason, and facts. It's a shield to keep people from hurting her more than she's been hurt before.

But Booth managed to get through that shield. It took time, patience - a whole lotta patience - and a couple near-death situations for Temperance to allow him anywhere near her real self. More time and more patience let him get closer to her, learn more about her.

She began confiding in him, believing in him, and trusting him with her life and her secrets. She let him in much, much deeper than she had let anyone in, ever. In that time, he's come to see her eyes warm up, even glitter with fire. They turned from ice blue to a deeper, crystalline blue that almost made them sparkle like sapphires.

Sometimes people misjudged her based on her outward demeanor. They heard her emperical tone and her rational line of thought and immediately thought she was cold.

But Booth knew the way to see his partner's true self. Yes, her eyes could be icy. But they could also glitter, and shine.

Eyes can be windows to the soul. But sometimes, those windows can be clouded, the soul within a little harder to see.

Sometimes, you have to look harder in order to see past the frosted glass.

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><p><strong>Little baby drabble. Hope you like!<strong>

**Review please!**


	15. Magic

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #14: Magic - Sinatra's song applied to them more than either of them could ever realize.**

**Words: 908**

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><p>"Whatever happened to seeing someone across a crowded room, eyes meeting,<em> that ole black magic gets you in its spell...<em>"

When Booth first quoted that line to Bones, he barely reflected on how much the song could actually apply to them. It was merely a line he'd recalled from that old song, a song that somehow made him feel...oddly complete.

Much like how they felt around each other.

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><p><strong>That old black magic has me in its spell,<br>That old black magic that you weave so well**

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><p>Even though she denies that magic exists, how else can she explain how he makes her feel?<p>

How can she not know what her scent, her gaze, her very presence does to his mentality and his state of calm?

It's scary, but exhilarating.

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><p><strong>Those icy fingers up and down my spine,<br>The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine,**

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><p>He got under her skin, into her mind, into her heart. He wormed into places nobody outside her family had ever known about. It was something in his eyes.<p>

He started telling her secrets, things he'd never told anyone, not even his own family. Her eyes just made him want to confide in her.

It became something they couldn't fight, even if they wanted to. Which they didn't.

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><p><strong>The same old tingle that I feel inside<br>And then that elevator starts its slide,**

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><p>She always felt that there was some slight attraction, but she knew she couldn't pursue it. Her past made her wary, and it would hurt her.<p>

Sometimes he was painfully aware of how fragile she really was. He never wanted to be the one to break her.

Tread carefully. That was what they did, for years.

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><p><strong>Down and down I go,<br>Round and round I go,  
>Like a leaf that's caught in the tide.<strong>

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><p>But she couldn't stop the pull she felt around him. She resisted as best she could, but couldn't completely cut it off.<p>

He really couldn't keep yearning. He had to stop. He knew that. But he couldn't stop falling for her.

It was a feeling that defied explaination, and frankly, the rush was too good to consider ever giving it up.

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><p><strong>I should stay away but what can I do,<strong>

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><p>Every time she left on one of her anthropology discover-the-roots-of-humanity trips, he figured it was a sign from above to move on. He'd go weeks without hearing the name Temperance Brennan.<p>

When she left for her trips, she took it as a way to break clean. She'd go weeks without hearing the name Seeley Booth.

But she came back, and they were together again.

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><p><strong>I hear your name, and I'm aflame,<br>A flame with such a burning desire,  
>That only your kiss can put out the fire.<strong>

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><p>He couldn't get enough of her. She was his drug, intoxicating and addicting, and no matter how close they were, he always wanted more. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, love her, to make her his alone.<p>

She couldn't consider life without him. He was her anchor, strong and steady, and no matter what situation they found themselves facing, he never wavered. She wanted to keep him, safeguard him, to never let him go.

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><p><strong>'Cause you're the lover I have waited for,<br>The mate that fate had me created for,**

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><p>He knew they were meant to be together. Kismit, fate, karma, whatever it was called, he felt it in his heart.<p>

She had never felt this way with anybody else in his life. Probability and the possibility of random chance negated the thought that this could happen again.

They were good together. Even though they weren't actually "together".

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><p><strong>And every time your lips meet mine,<br>****Darling, down and down I go,  
>Round and round I go, <strong>

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><p>He couldn't kiss another woman, hold another woman, love another woman, because he always, always, truly only loved one woman. He was completely entrapped by this ideal that this one woman was the perfect one for him.<p>

She was incapable of being in a serious relationship with anyone else because she would always, always compare them to one man. She had a strange but intriguing notion that this one man was the one who could, in theory, complete her.

And the idea made them happy.

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><p><strong>In that spin of love that I am in,<br>Under that old black magic of love.**

* * *

><p>He was Seeley Booth.<p>

She was Temperance Brennan.

The spell was cast. The magic was working.

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><p><strong>This was fun to write! Review and let me know how you like it!<strong>


	16. Bestseller

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones. _But I would love my own knight in FBI body armor. Just sayin'.**

**Prompt #15: Bestseller - It slightly annoyed her that the main reason her books stayed on the lists was because of the sex scenes.**

**Words: 559**

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><p>Temperance Brennan sighed heavily and threw the book across the room. "I can't believe it!" she griped.<p>

"Can't believe what?" Seeley Booth asked, walking into her office to hear the last bit of the sentance.

She looked up at him. "My newest book made it to the top of the bestseller list."

"Which one?"

"The _New York Times _bestseller list, among others."

"Again? That's awesome!" Booth said with a huge smile. "As expected of my brilliant author slash partner. What couldn't you believe about that?"

Temperance rapped a pencil against her desktop angrily. The rat-tat-tat sound rang out like a demented woodpecker. "It's my publisher. She raved about the sexual tension and the steamy romance scenes between Kathy and Andy, but said nothing about the actual book. Booth, it's not the reason I write. I write these books because I want people to know about what I do. They shouldn't sell simply because I listen to Angela's advice and write in a love scene ever other chapter."

"Hey, that's not why they sell, Bones. Hey," Booth said, reaching over to grab her hand and still the pencil's tapping. "That's not why they sell, all right?"

Her mouth twisted into a skeptic scowl. "There's very little evidence to the contrary, Booth. Even the reviews praise the sexual aspects more than Kathy's professional exploits."

Booth could see that his words alone wouldn't change her mind. Heaving a sigh, he leaned his hip against the edge of her desk and crossed his arms. "Okay, Bones. Why do you write? About Kathy, or about anything. Why do you do it?"

Her answer was immediate. "Because I want to tell a story. I want people to know what I do - what we do," she amended, including Booth as well, "and what it means to search for killers with nothing but bones to work with. I want them to understand what I do every day, and why I do it."

She was really worked up about this, Booth realized. True, her sex scenes were steamy and always had him reaching for a glass of water, but she had to know that they didn't make the book what it was - a bestseller. They just added a touch of spice and a splash of romance to a very well-written crime novel. Booth sighed again and looked right at his partner. "Bones, that's exactly what you do. That's what you've been doing ever since your first book came out years ago. Nothing's changed."

"You're just saying that," Temperance dismissed, returning her attention to the pencil in her hands.

"When have I ever - " He cut himself off before asking a dumb question. "Bones, I mean it. Your books are phenomenal, and not just because of Kathy's many sexy rendez-vous." He tilted her chin so that she was staring into his eyes again. "It's because you have a story to tell, and people want to hear your story."

She was silent for a few minutes. Then a light came to life in her eyes. "Thank you, Booth."

"I meant every word," he replied, smiling his charm smile. "Now c'mon, let's get some food."

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><p><strong>Inspired by the scene in "The Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond" when Bones is considering not writing anymore. Review please!<strong>


	17. Sun

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #16: Sun - Avalon Harmonia's words refused to go away, even after the case was completed.**

**Words: 540**

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><p>"<em>Yes, he knows the truth about you. And he is dazzled by that truth.<em>"

Avalon Harmonia's words echoed in Temperance's head later that night. Staring at her blank Word document with a glass of wine beside her, she couldn't stop thinking about the alleged psychic's words.

It had been true. All of it. Everything Avalon had said the night before was true. But that last bit with the Sun card had thrown her for a loop. Avalon had mentioned a 'he' that 'knew the truth about her'.

What he? What truth?

Temperance had known many men through her life. As she knew, she was very beautiful and very intelligent, which made her desireable. She dated men, yes, but didn't let them into her life any more than necessary. None of them were supposed to be long-term; they were merely satisfying the biological urges that they both possessed.

Only two men could honestly be considered potential long-term interests. Tim "Sully" Sullivan and Seeley Booth.

Sully was a happy accident. Booth's replacement while her partner went to therapy for shooting an ice cream truck (which had a clown on top, a situation that Temperance fully understood given Booth's coulrophobia), he was markedly different from most other men she'd dated. Attraction had flowered between them, and it naturally progressed. When her book was used for copycat murders, Temperance was very surprised to hear him admit that this relationship meant more to him than just sex (something she had been toying with for a while as well).

But Avalon couldn't have meant Sully. He'd left two years ago for the Carribbean on his boat, so she couldn't have meant Sully.

So that left Booth. Booth, who first enlisted her help for solving crimes. Booth, who took her purely scientific approach to ancient murders and deployed them into the modern world. Booth, who took her people and gave them a purpose that helped in the present instead of just in the past. Booth, who took her out of her lab and brought her into the world. He knew her better than anybody else ever had. He knew more about her past than even Angela, he knew what made her tick, and he could even anticipate what she would do next. He could understand her. When she was confused about something, he could help her understand as well.

Booth...he completed her. His brawn to her brains, his street-sense to her smarts, his heart to her logic.

Did Avalon...did she mean Booth?

"_Yes, he knows the truth about you._"

What truth? Did Avalon mean the truth of Temperance herself? Or was it something else? Another truth, something she still wasn't ready to accept but that this mystery man (was it Booth? She wasn't sure) already knew.

Maybe she did. Maybe he did know about her.

"_And he is dazzled by that truth_."

And maybe he was.

But Temperance wasn't sure if she could ask.

After all, even superstitious Booth didn't believe in psychics.

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><p><strong>Just a tag to "The Harbingers in the Fountain" that I like. Review please!<strong>


	18. Plate

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #17: Plate - When the crash echoed through the apartment, he originally thought it wasn't a big deal. Then he heard her scream.**

**Words: 514**

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><p>The crash itself didn't raise any alarms with Booth. He was used to things dropping unexpectedly; sometimes Parker dropped a bowl in the kitchen or a shampoo bottle in the bathtub. So when he heard a very loud crash in the kitchen, he didn't react more than just looking over his shoulder to see what had broken.<p>

But then an earsplitting scream rent the air, and he vaulted off the couch like his butt was on fire. "Bones! Bones, what is it?" he shouted as he ran into the kitchen.

Booth registered several things at once. On the floor was a mess of white shards - from the amount on the floor, he was guessing she dropped a plate. She was backing away from the sink, her soapy hands cupped in front of her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept sobbing, her eyes wide with panic and fear, locked on the broken plate.

He instantly realized what was happening. "Bones, it's okay," he said, quickly stepping around the mess to wrap his arms around her. "It's fine. You didn't do anything wrong, baby."

"Water was hot," she said brokenly, shuddering against him as her hands gripped his shirt. "Soap was too slippery...I'm sorry, I'm sorry - "

"Shhh, it's not your fault," Booth assured her. One hand reached up to stroke her hair while the other kept her body flush with his. "It's all right, it's just a plate. I can get another. Nothing's wrong, Bones, it's fine. Shhh, it's fine, it's okay."

On the inside he was ready to tear the foster parent who had done this to his partner to shreds. How could you lock a teenager in a car trunk for two days because of a stupid plate? That passed cruelty to children and bordered on inhumane.

But he kept his anger in check. Temperance didn't need his rage; she needed his solace. So he spoke softly, pulling her out of the kitchen and away from the bad memories as gently as he could. He took her to their bedroom. He held her as she sobbed and apologized and cried some more, her tears through soaking his shirt. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, calming her down by inches and minutes. He stayed with her until she calmed down enough to fall asleep.

Making sure that his partner was completely asleep, Booth slipped back into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess. Being extremely careful, he picked up every shard of plate from the floor. Then he cleaned up the kitchen and went back to bed.

Temperance moved as he slipped in beside her. "Booth?"

"Shh, it's okay baby," he breathed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep. We got work in the morning."

She was his partner, his best friend, and his love. He would always protect her - even when her past came back to haunt her.

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><p><strong>Awww, adorable-ness! Review please!<strong>


	19. TV

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #18: TV - When it finally arrived, she just had to call him over for a night of testing out all the channels.**

**Words: 456**

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><p>"Thank you," Temperance said to the installers as they left her apartment. "Have a good day." Shutting the door behind them, she walked back into her living room and looked at the newest addition to her home.<p>

A TV. Yup, she'd finally broken down and bought a new TV. About six years after breaking her old one with a baseball bat while her ex-boyfriend had tried to slip out with it.

Temperance picked up the remote and turned the set on. After figuring out the basic controls, she sat down and attempted to enjoy her new entertainment system. But for some reason, she couldn't focus on one thing to watch. It got so bad that she was flipping through the channels too fast to watch anything.

_This is ridiculous,_ she thought. She picked up her phone and dialed a number she could remember in her sleep.

"_What's up Bones?_"

"Booth, I find myself incredibly bored. Are there any new cases?"

"_Um, no. Bones, wasn't your TV supposed to come in today?_"

She cast the set a dark look. "Yes, it's here, but it's not as interesting as I thought it'd be. There's too much on to watch."

Her partner laughed a little. "_Bones, that's because you have to choose ahead of time. Don't you have the guide button on your remote?_"

Temperance looked at the remote with a frown. "Um, maybe?" she hedged.

Booth sighed, but she could tell there was a hint of smile in it. "_Okay, tell you what. Give me fifteen minutes. I'll grab dinner, some beer, and we can enjoy your new TV together as I reaquaint you with the finer aspects of cable television._"

"I have a dish," she informed him.

"_Whatever. Fifteen minutes, okay?_"

"Okay Booth. Thanks."

Sixteen and a half minutes later, Booth was at the door bearing a box-tray of Thai food and a six-pack of beer. He whistled at the size of her television set. "Wow, you really went all-out on it, huh?"

She gave a shrug. "It was a good purchase."

"All right then!" Booth said, happy as a rich kid in a candy store. He dropped on her couch and plopped the food and beer on her coffee table. "Now, what's your problem with this thing again?"

Smiling, Temperance sat beside him and handed over the remote. "There's nothing on."

"What? The game's on, Bones!"

Her grin grew wider. "That sounds like fun."

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><p><strong>I've decided to grace you all with a double update. Have fun!<strong>

**Review please!**


	20. Carribbean

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #19: Carribbean - Her eyes widened when she heard the voice on the phone. "Sully?" she breathed.**

**Words: 1,010**

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><p>"I believe this man died from blunt force trauma that originated at the back of the skull," Temperance Brennan said, leaning over the skull on her examining table. "Definitely murder."<p>

"Fantastic, Bones," Booth said, already dialing it in. "We already knew that. I need to know with _what._"

"Working on it, Booth," she replied, not breaking her concentration on the skull.

"Can you work a little faster? Or just guess?"

"I can't just magically procure a weapon like some hack magician," she said.

From her seat by the computer, Angela rolled her eyes. "They like being called illusionists, sweetie."

Before Temperance could craft a response, the phone rang. She reached over and picked up her cell. "Brennan," she answered, cradling the phone on her shoulder as she reached for a bone to examine.

Her hand froze. "Sully?"

All movement ceased. Hodgins and Angela looked up in surprise at the name of the FBI agent who was their boss's short-lived partner and lover. Cam looked at Booth, who was watching Temperance with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Um, no, this isn't a bad time," said the anthropologist, hastily stripping off her gloves. "Sure, I can talk for a little bit. Let me get into my office. Hold on." Covering the speaker, she whispered to the others, "Hodgins, get some particulates from the wound and see if you can find some characteristics of what was on the weapon. Angela, run the break pattern, see if you can get a shape for Booth." She quickly walked off the forensics platform and headed into her office.

Cam was about to speak when Booth turned on his heel and walked out of the lab. "Where are you going?" she called.

"Back to work," he replied before the doors slid shut behind him.

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><p>When Temperance emerged from her office, she was confused when she didn't see Booth's clean-cut figure loitering near the forensics platform. Brushing back her hair, she headed for Cam's office. "Have you seen Booth?"<p>

"Not since he checked out when you got your call." The forensic pathologist closed a window and leaned back in her chair, looking at Temperance carefully. "So, how is Sully?"

"Very well. He's doing very well with his boat and it is very nice in the Caribbean." She frowned a little. "Why? You seem very strange about Sully's call to me."

Cam shrugged. "No reason. Just that, you suddenly blowing off human remains and a case to talk to an old fling is a little - surprising."

"Sully was calling collect, and I had some time." Temperance crossed her arms, suddenly feeling defensive. "What's so strange about my catching up with an old friend?"

"An old friend who practically dropped off the face of the earth two years ago? Booth didn't seem to like it much. That's why he left."

Temperance looked to the side, then back at Cam. "What does Sully calling have to do with Booth leaving?"

Cam sighed. "Now I know what Sweets means. Okay, wicked literal. Booth felt jealous, Dr. Brennan."

"Jealous? Booth?" Temperance laughed. She had to. The idea was ridiculous. Why would Booth be jealous? She hadn't gone traversing the Caribbean with Sully. She'd stayed at the Jeffersonian. She stayed to work. She stayed to solve murders.

She stayed to be with Booth.

_Wait, what? _

She thought about it again. _I stayed to be with Booth. _It didn't sound particularly different, but when she thought it, a warm feeling pooled in her stomach.

Cam watched the play of confusion, pensiveness, and finally affection across Temperance's face before speaking up. "If I were you, I'd go after Booth and tell him what you're thinking. He's not really good at rejection."

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><p>He heard her calling his name and thought about ignoring it, but Booth was never able to truly shut out his partner. So he plastered a fake smile on his face and turned around as she ran down the Jeffersonian's steps to join him. "Hey Bones, got my murder weapon yet?"<p>

"Sully was just saying hello," she said in a rush, pressing a hand to her chest to catch her breath. "And trying to talk me into coming down for a vacation."

Booth felt a small burst of jealousy in his gut. "Really? That's nice of him," he said pleasantly.

"I said no."

Understandably, he was surprised. "Why?"

Temperance gave him a look. "If I go, he'll just try to convince me to stay. I can't give into his flights of fancy and stay down there." She grinned at him. "I am your partner, Booth," she said in a teasing tone. "Who'll help you solve murders if I'm not here?"

His charming grin replaced the plastic smile faster than a gunshot. "Cheeky, Bones."

"But true," she replied confidently. "I am incredibly instrumental in your ability to close difficult cases involving human remains."

"You are many things, Bones, and instrumental is one of them," Booth admitted. "But never let it be said that you are modest."

She smiled at him, and Booth immediately felt better than he had before. His jealousy was always uncomfortable to have around his partner; she'd sometimes pick up on it, but not be sure of its source. Then she'd feel awkward or even guilty about it, and that made him feel even worse.

But when she'd said she was staying for him, no matter how practical her reasoning, _damn _if that didn't make everything better.

Sully could have the Carribean and that damn boat.

Booth had Temperance. His Temperance.

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	21. Fingers

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #20: Fingers - Whenever his back gave him trouble, he always went to her to help.**

**Words: 352**

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><p>"Boooooooooooooones!"<p>

Temperance rolled her eyes when she heard the plainative cry from the person entering her office. "What is it Booth?" she asked. Her eyes took in his hunched position and his pained expression. "What happened?"

"My back hurts..."

Another eye roll. "Did you slide down the small slide with Parker again? Slip on a slippery tile in your bathroom? Bend over too far picking up one of your comic books?"

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned. "C'mon Bones, just help me out. I gotta go get Parker for the weekend and I don't want to be handicapped."

She analyzed how he was holding his body and quickly diagnoised the problem. "All right. Stand as straight as you possibly can."

He obeyed with a grateful smile. "Bones, you have no idea what this means to me."

"It means, as per usual, you will buy me lunch or dinner." In a now-familair motion, Temperance slid her arms up under his arms and pressed her hands pressed against the sides of his neck. "Now, don't tense up. I won't hurt you."

"I trust you, Bones," he said simply.

She smiled as she rotated his upper body. No matter how many times he said that, it always made her feel happy. "Okay, here's the first one."

CRACK! SNAP! "OW!" he shouted.

Temperance almost let him go. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned that she'd done more harm than good. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Yeah, fine," he said weakly. "That just felt really good." A sigh escaped his lips. "Continue."

Carefully, Temperance kept going. With a last yank and a final crack of his back, Booth let out a yelp of surprise, then flexed his suddenly pain-free back. "Wow! God, that's amazing Bones! You'd make a killing as a chiropractor."

"I'm happy enough as a forensic anthropologist," she replied.

Booth grinned and grabbed her coat. "Well, let's go and I can buy you dinner."

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><p><strong>Just a random drabble. Enjoy and review please!<strong>


	22. Godparents

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #21: Godparents - Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins had the best people to look after him, aside from his parents.**

**Words: 700**

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><p>I, Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins, think I'm a pretty lucky kid. If I do say so myself.<p>

For one thing, I have the absolute _coolest _parents in the world. Me and my dad are best buds, and Dad has the coolest job - he gets to work with bugs and slime and plants. Plus, I always do well in science class because we do the coolest experiments.

Mom's one of those awesome moms who lets me go out with friends and isn't a worrywart about it. She's an artist, and she'd really good at it. At work she has this computer she calls the Angelator that can analyze anything faster and better than a normal computer. At least that's what she said.

For another, my parents work at the Jeffersonian with the rest of my uncles and aunts. Well, they're not really my uncles and aunts because we're not related, but they are my family. They're all a team of crime-solvers who work with bodies that are so old or so rotted that there's only bones left. Dad is the forensic bug-and-slime guy of the team, and Mom is the forensic artist.

Aunt Cam is a forensic pathologist. She deals with tissue, organs, and the goopy stuff that makes up decomposing bodies. So cool. When I come over the Jeffersonain and my parents are busy, I sit in Aunt Cam's office and watch her work on the latest case. It's really amazing what stuff she finds when she stares at the goop that used to be a person.

If there's a really gross body in her lab that my mom doesn't want me to see (which happens a lot, let me tell you) I'm told to go to Uncle Sweets' office. He's a psychologist for the FBI, and he's great at picking people's brains apart. He's teaching me some tricks so I don't get confused by girls like some of my friends. He says I'm pretty good at it.

Uncle Seeley works in the FBI building too. He's my godfather and one of the best FBI agents _ever_. He taught me how to investigate, how to connect the dots, and how to read people. He's better than Uncle Sweets sometimes, and he makes fun of Uncle Sweets by calling him a kid.

He and Aunt Temperance make a great team. She's my godmother and she's the best forensic anthropologist in the country. She can look at bones and tell you what age, sex, race, and what other bones have been broken before. She and Uncle Seeley get into all kinds of trouble, but they still manage to catch the bad guys no matter what.

My family is pretty awesome. I want to do the same as them when I grow up. I don't know how yet, but I know I want to help solve crimes like my family.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Walters smiled at the eight-year-old boy as he finished reading his essay in front of the class. He seemed very excited about his future, and she could only hope that he stuck with it.<p>

When the class day ended, she walked up to his desk and said, "So Michael, I really liked your essay."

He beamed at her. "Thanks Mrs. Walters. It's all true."

"I know, Michael. Thank you for taking it so seriously." She'd had to roll her eyes at some of the other boys' essays. "Who's picking you up today?"

Before he could respond, he looked out the window and smiled. "Uncle Seeley and Aunt Tempy!" He picked up his backpack and took off out the door. Mrs. Walters watched out the window as the little boy ran right into his godmother's arms. His godfather got the next hug, then Uncle Seeley picked him up adn spun him around. The three then walked towards the line of parents' cars waiting to leave. Mrs. Walters smiled again.

Michael Stacatto Vincent Hodgins had a very good group of role models to look up to.

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><p><strong>Cute future fic I came up with. Review please!<strong>


	23. Threat

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #22: Threat - She never knew what he'd done to keep the Mara Muerte gang from putting a bullet through her brain.**

**Words: 670**

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><p>Booth had told me it was over. He said he'd taken care of everything.<p>

I was too naive to understand exactly what he'd meant.

Why was he so stupid? He threatened the head of Mala Muerte. For what? For me?

He's such an idiot sometimes.

I had to find out from Charlie. He'd let slip that the Gang Unit had heard that Mala Muerte had put out a hit on me after the case. He said he'd told Booth. The day after that, Charlie said, the hit was dropped.

Then it all made sense to me. That day, he'd missed the funeral. He'd said he had 'something to do' to explain why he was late. I asked if he thought it was more important than a funeral. He said it was at the time.

He'd been late to Maria and Augustine's funeral - to prevent mine.

Booth always knew how to make an impression on people.

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><p>"Were you ever going to tell me?"<p>

He looked at me in confusion. I realized that he might not know what I was talking about, so I elaborated. "You threatened Roberto Ortez, the head of Mala Muerte, to keep him from putting a hit out on me."

Booth glanced away from me. That's his tell. He really can't look at me when he lies.

I put my hands on my hips. "Booth? Were you going to tell me?"

"If we ever dealt with Mala Muerte again, yeah," he said, defensiveness clear in his tone. "You didn't seem too concerned at the time, Bones."

"I didn't know you'd crammed your gun down a gangbanger's throat in his own neighborhood!" I was still apalled at how clueless I'd been back then. I'd actually asked what was more important than the funeral to the man who'd saved my life. Once again.

He shrugged. "Does it matter? They backed off. The hit was dropped."

"It was incredibly reckless, Booth!"

"You're my partner, Bones," was his calm reply. Unlike me, he had yet to raise his voice. "I'd do anything for you. You know that."

But I hadn't before. I hadn't known just how far he'd go to keep me safe. I'd find out in time, but back then? I'd been a cold, heartless bitch to him. Which I told him.

But Booth just smiled. "What's done is done, Bones. It's behind us. Let it go, okay?"

_I don't deserve this man_, I thought to myself as I nodded mutely. _I don't deserve someone this wonderful and selfless._

This wasn't the first instance he's risked his job, certain injury and death to protect me. I could still remember when the bomb had gone off in my apartment, blasting Booth almost bad enough to kill him. I could remember when he jumped on a plane to get me in New Orleans when I woke up beaten without my memory. I could still recall endless instances where he pushed the envelope to help us all find murderers.

He's always been there for me. And just when he'd threatened a dangerous gang leader into leaving me alone, I had to go and treat him like dirt.

"Bones?" I blinked and refocused on Booth. He held up his fist. Recognizing the bonding gesture, I raised my own and bumped fists with him. "Yeah! All right," he said happily. "Now let's get some Thai food! I'm starved."

I didn't deserve this handsome, selfless, strong, endearing FBI agent who's my partner, my best male friend, and the man who set me on this path to catch present-day murderers. But sometimes I thank the universe that he's been there for me every step of the way.

Watching my back.

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><p><strong>Booth really has saved her bacon a lot, hasn't he? Review please!<strong>


	24. Book

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #23: Book - Sweets would be damned if a bombshell like _We worked together before the Cleo Eller case _stopped him from writing about the ongoing relationship between his two patients.**

**Words: 390**

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><p>Dr. Lance Sweets usually prided himself on his ability to read people.<p>

But truthfully, he hadn't seen that coming.

_They worked together before the Cleo Eller case? _How had he not known that? Nobody told him.

Then again, he never asked.

Well, this certainly explained a lot. The unresolved sexual tension, for one. If they'd had that kind of relationship, plus a kiss, then a falling-out, it would've undoubtedly turned into that sort of thing.

It also explained the why of why he'd chosen to work with Dr. Brennan. Rather than choose an entirely new forensic anthropologist, he sought out one he already knew was up for the job. The fact that the next closest one was in Canada was something else entirely, but still.

It explained why they insisted that nothing existed between them. It must've been a little awkward for a time. With Dr. Brennan's deep-seated emotional issues, no wonder they'd decided to push to keep remaining friends.

But perhaps that was the best thing to happen to them.

Many couples who met under similar circumstances - thrown together, then attracted to each other, and moving way too fast, way too soon - flamed, crashed and burned faster than anything. They only operated on lust and hormones, they only know how to react to those emotions. Everything else is not important. That is, until the lust fades and problems emerge. Then you're left with a hollow relationship based on nothing.

Booth and Brennan slowly became friends. They learned to trust each other. They became great partners, and best friends. If they'd jumped into that relationship on that first night, no way could they have replicated this type of friendship.

Sweets picked up his completed manuscript and examined it dispassionately. Thanks to that out-of-the-blue declaration, the basis of his entire book was crap.

But he'd had to deal with far worse things than a surprise statement from two longtime patients and friends. So what if they'd blindsided him? He'd work with what he had. If you recieve new facts, you need to change your theories to suit them.

Picking up a pen, Sweets flipped the manuscript over and started to write.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	25. Clown

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #24: Clown - The next time they dealt with clowns, she demanded to carry his gun. Didn't need him pulled from active duty again because of his (she personally thought ridiculous) fear.**

**Words: 419**

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><p>"Clowns," Booth groaned, seeing the familiar face paint and giant shoes littering the tent. "Why do there have to be clowns?"<p>

Temperance saw her partner's face turn a delicate shade of pale green. He was still afraid of clowns; that little blip of time after his brain surgery had passed, and his fear returned full-blast. Already he was getting twitchy as they approached the ringmaster, seeing those painted faces and giant red noses and floppy shoes. If this kept up and one of the clowns decided to not cooperate...

Temperance stopped abruptly. Booth almost walked right into her, his eyes widening in surprise. "Bones?"

"Give me your gun," she said calmly, holding out her hand.

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "We talked about this. You don't carry my gun unless there's an emergency."

"This is an emergency." Not really, but she was about to classify it as such. "Give me your gun."

"Bones, I'm not giving you my gun. Let's go talk to the ringmaster."

She stood her ground firmly. "Booth, you are twitching and sweaty and clearly not comfortable in this environment. The last thing we need is you blowing a basket and shooting another clown and me having another partner."

"Okay, first off, it's "blowing a gasket," Bones," he stated. "Two, it was an ice cream truck. Three, that's not going to happen again."

"Nevertheless, I demand that you give me your gun until we finish the interviews here." She stuck out her hand again. "You can have it back once we leave."

"What are you, my mother?" Booth said. "I'm not giving you my gun."

"I'll take it."

"I'll charge you with assaulting a federal agent."

"I will still have your gun until we leave."

Booth scowled at her. She matched his scowl with an unimpressed look. He broke the staring match first. "C'mon Bones."

"No." Her fingers wiggled impatiently. "Give it to me, or you can wait in the car while I conduct the interviews."

From the way Booth's face turned pale, he was remembering all her previous attempts at solo interviews. Faster than an eye-blink the pistol was in her hand.

Temperance smiled smugly as she put the gun in her purse. It was good to know that she could still scare him enought to do what she wanted.

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><p><strong>Hmm, give Temperance the gun or let her interview solo. Tough choice.<strong>

**Review please!**


	26. Parker

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones. _If I did, the new season would be on, like, NOW.**

**Prompt #25: Parker - He liked Bones - a lot. He just didn't understand why Daddy didn't marry her.**

**Words: 982**

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><p>Parker tilted his head as he watched his dad and Dr. Bones eat Thai food while talking over their latest case. They were sitting close to each other, finishing the other's sentences at times, and always brushing shoulders.<p>

There was only one question on Parker's mind. _Why aren't they married yet?_

He was by no means a dumb kid. Parker knew very well what it meant to be dating a girl. Everything his dad and Dr. Bones did was pretty much the same as dating. But according to every other adult, they weren't dating. Which just confused him.

So he went to his best friend and asked him what his opinion was. That got him nowhere; aside from his dad and girlfriend, Parker's friend had no helpful advice to give.

That made Parker go to Aunt Angela, who was always square and honest with him. As he played with baby Michael, he told the forensic artist everything he'd noticed about his dad and Dr. Bones.

How they shared almost everything, from food to clothes (his) and files (hers).

How they could finish each other's sentences.

How they had absolutely _no _personal space restrictions between them.

How he would smile when she got excited over some anomaly in the bones.

How she would laugh when he said something ridiculous.

How they'd forget about everything, even time, as they worked through the night to solve their latest case.

How Dad looked when Dr. Bones was with another guy.

How Dr. Bones looked when Dad was dating Hannah.

How relieved they both looked when Hannah was gone.

When Parker finished, he was surprised to see Aunt Angela giving him a surprised, yet proud look. He frowned. "What?"

"Nothing sweetie, just...you'd make a swell investigator," she replied. "You noticed everything we've noticed, and quite a bit more."

Parker was very happy with the compliment that he knew more than other adults. "So why won't Dad marry her?"

Aunt Angela looked a little uncomfortable at that question. "Well...it's kind of complicated, sweetie. First being that, well, they're not exactly the marrying types."

"But they're having a baby," Parker pointed out. "Shouldn't they get married?"

"Yes, but then again, they're not really normal. Right?"

Parker had to agree. Nobody could ever accuse his dad or Dr. Bones of being normal.

"They've always done things their own way, Parker. Might as well just let them be," Aunt Angela advised him.

Making a face, Parker nodded. "Okay. But it's silly. They should just get married already."

"Trust me, sweetie," Aunt Angela sighed, "by now, we only wish they would."

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><p>Being an inquisitive child, Parker decided to ask his dad point-blank about this issue. So he walked right up to him and asked, "Dad, why don't you marry Dr. Bones?"<p>

In response, Booth knelt down in front of his son and said, "Sport, I'd love to marry her. But Bones is...well, she's not a traditional girl. She doesn't like marriage."

"I thought all girls liked weddings," Parker said, remembering how the girls in his class cooed and giggled over the event.

"Well, Bones doesn't really like it." His dad shrugged. "I'm happy just being with her, and with your new brother or sister. Aren't you?"

Parker nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He looked up at him again. "Still think you should marry her."

"Believe me, so do I." His dad ruffled his hair. "But I guess it's not to be, Parker. I'm okay with that."

While he knew his dad wouldn't lie to him, Parker could tell that he wasn't being completely honest either. So he waited a few days, then took a bus to the Jeffersonain to ask Dr. Bones about it. When he walked into the Medico-Legal Lab, he saw the forensic anthropologist standing over a bunch of bones. _She's busy, _he thought, so he turned and headed into her office.

Dr. Bones entered half an hour later to find her partner's son browsing through her anthropology books. "Parker, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"Dr. Bones, do you love my dad?" Parker asked.

She blushed and averted her gaze, walking over to sit down at her desk. "W-What brought this on, Parker?" she stammered as she pulled out some paperwork.

"Well, he loves you a lot," Parker stated, "and it looks like you love him a lot too." When she didn't deny this, he continued. "And since you're having a kid, it must mean that you really love each other. So why don't you two get married?"

Dr. Bones looked just as uncomfortable as his dad had been. Rubbing her hand over her enlarged stomach, she spoke carefully. "Parker, I - I do care about your father, but I don't think we'd make it as husband and wife. We're too different."

"But you love each other," Parker insisted.

"That may be, but..." She paused, thought about it, then started again. "Parker, you want us to be happy, right?" He nodded. "Well, we're happy like this. So why can't it stay like this?"

Parker had no response to that. So he accepted the situation and hugged Dr. Bones. "Okay. I guess that's okay." _If they're happy, _he thought, _then that's really all that matters._

_But when my baby brother or sister is born, maybe they'll change their minds_.

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><p><strong>Just a Parker-centric drabble. I wonder what he'll think when he finds out he'll be a big brother.<strong>

**25 chapters, 56 reviews! Keep em coming and review please!**


	27. Reading

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #26: Reading - He though the sight of her looking through a book of baby names was both adorable and funny.**

**Words: 517**

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><p>It was actually hilarious to see her with the thick volume in her hands when he brought pizza to the lab for lunch. Setting the box down on the table, he stared at her. "Bones, what are you doing?"<p>

She looked up at him. "Booth! What do you think of Cornelius?"

"No," was his reflex answer. "No way. Too easily made into a taunt." Then he realized what she'd asked. "Wait, are you actually running baby names past me? Seriously?"

"Why not? It's your child too, Booth," Brennan said in a logical voice, returning to her reading. "I've decided to start picking potential names for when I find out the baby's gender. That way we're not arguing about it later. What about Francesco?"

Booth shook his head. "Definitely not."

"Bartholomew?" she tried, flipping to dog-eared pages. "Chaucer?"

Her partner made a confused face at her. "What are you, a name generator? Why are you picking those kind of names?"

"Well, they're unique, like yours and mine are," Brennan replied. "If our child has a unique name, that's a good thing, right?"

Booth exhaled loudly. "Bones, unique is one thing. Obsolete is another thing entirely. What about Jack or Brandon? Those are good names. And why are you fixated on boy's names? Got any girl names yet?"

"Giselle and Veronica," she replied promptly. "But there are many others that could be considered. What about Madeline or Genevieve?"

The FBI agent rolled his eyes. "Just put the book down for a bit and come eat lunch. We can talk later."

"Promise?"

A dangerous word. As logical as she was, Temperance Brennan was still a woman riding the hormonal rollarcoaster of pregnancy, and she'd had sudden tear-fests over the simplest things already. If he felt up to describing the situation to Sweets, Booth was now treading dangerous shark-infested waters with a freshly bleeding cut.

So he said carefully, "I promise, Temperance, we'll talk after lunch. Now put down the book." She did. "Good. Now come on over and get some pizza."

She awkwardly levered her swollen body out of the sofa, then gasped. "Booth! I felt the baby kick!" she exclaimed, a smile breaking over her face.

"Really?" Booth asked. He remembered when Rebecca had been pregnant and they'd felt Parker kick inside her. It had been weird, but amazing. The thought that Brennan was now experiencing that feeling was...weird, but pretty amazing.

"Yes, here!" Before he could compute the action, she was across the room and holding his hand against her belly. "Feel it?"

He could. Shock mingled with amazement and awe as he looked at his partner, then at the hidden baby who was whaling on his mother's stomach. "Wow, tough little tiger," he remarked with a chuckle.

Brennan's reply was proud. "Just like his father."

_God, _did he light up when he heard that.

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><p><strong>I find the idea of a pregnant Brennan very amusing? Will she still be super-rational woman or not? We shall see!<strong>

**Review please!**


	28. Dolphin

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #27: Dolphin - When he found her twirling the glass figurine in her hands, he knew she needed to have a friend who'd listen to her.**

**Words: 494**

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><p>Leaning into the office, Booth saw his partner reclining in her chair, hands stretched forward and playing with something on her desk. She looked pensive and just a little spacey, meaning her head wasn't completely there at the moment. Taking care not to startle her, Booth walked slowly up to her.<p>

"Hey Booth," she said dully. She didn't look up from the object she was playing with. "What is it?"

He spoke carefully. "I wanted to tell you, we found the girl. She's all right, and her mother picked her up." He walked up closer. "You okay, Bones?"

"Her dad tried to kill her, Booth," she replied. "All because she wouldn't listen to him. What kind of parent does that to their child?"

Booth had, by this time, gotten close enough to see what it was she was playing with. His eyes softened when he saw it was the glass dolphin her father had left behind when he'd been on the run. He stood next to her and leaned his hip against her desk. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The anthropologist stopped playing with the figurine. Her eyes glanced up at Booth, then back at the dolphin in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she started to speak. She stated how from the beginning, she'd been uncomfortable. She told of her feelings when certain things the parents said had sounded hauntingly familiar to her, a child of the foster system, but she didn't take heed of her warnings. She said how the daughter had tried to tell her about the possibility of her father's doing this, and how she had tried to reassure the girl. She told Booth about the confrontation. She told him about the gun. She told him how she shot him to save the daughter from a fate worse than death. By the time she was finished, the tears were freely flowing.

Booth didn't say a word all through her tale. When she finished, however, he reached over and handed her a tissue. He watched her dab her eyes and blow her nose before speaking again. "Does it...does it make any difference, Booth?"

"It does, Bones," he responded. "We saved a girl's life and got a dangerous killer off the streets, not to mention we gave closure to the family of his victims." Touching her clenched fist, he smiled at her. "We did good, Bones. We did good."

She shook her head. "It doesn't feel like it."

Booth patted her hand. "That's okay. You've got me to remind you. C'mon, let's get a drink. You should unwind."

"I have paperwork."

"It can wait until tomorrow. Let's go."

Temperance looked over at him, back to the dolphin on her desk. The sight made her mouth set with finality. "All right, Booth. Let's go."

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><p><strong>Some hurtcomfort there. Review please!**


	29. Kathy

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones_. Damn, because the BrennanxBooth would've happened back in, like, season 3.**

**Prompt #28: Kathy - Her heroine was everything she was - beautiful, intelligent, the best in her field, and supremely confident. The only difference between them was that her alter ego was able to do the one thing she couldn't.**

**Words: 370**

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><p>When she first started writing about Kathy Reich, Temperance could never have expected the response she got. She had only adhered to the age-old adage, "Write what you know." Well, she knew anthropology, and after working with Booth, she knew police procedures. So she wrote true crime, a heroine who was a anthropologist and had an FBI partner, who solved strange cases with her own knowledge, help from her team of highly trained scientists, and a bit of backup from said FBI partner. Okay, and a tad bit of sex sprinkled around for appeal on Angela's whim.<p>

Sales skyrocketed. Temperance was pleasantly surprised when she was asked to write another one. So, drawing on her newest experiences with Booth, she began to flesh out Kathy.

Kathy began to grow, mature, and develop from just a character to a well-established forensic anthropologist with problems, achievements, and issues of her own. She came up against her own hardships, her own morals, her own dilemmas. For Temperance, Kathy almost became a real person in her own right.

Soon, Temperance came to envy Kathy. Sure, it sounds ludicrous, but it was the truth. Kathy didn't have the same inhibitions as Temperance did. She could do things, make decisions, that Temperance was too hesitant or too insecure to do. She went for what she wanted, regardless of how logical or rational it was or was not. She took intuitive leaps of faith. She trusted people.

She actually got somewhere with her sexy FBI partner.

Temperance sighed. That was one of the chief reasons she had to be envious of a fictional character. Kathy could actually summon up the guts to sleep with her partner. There was no line between them. He welcomed it, and he loved her. She loved him, and could show it.

Kathy wasn't afraid of rejection. Unlike her creator.

So with each new escapade, every new discovery, and each new encounter with a man who, in some way, was spawned by the same dreams she had late at night, Temperance felt herself illogically envying Kathy.

After all, she was able to get her man.

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	30. Identity

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #29: Identity - Joy Keenan still existed underneath Temperence Brennan, and she always would.**

**Words: 354**

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><p>Temperance Brennan.<p>

Joy Keenan.

Two names, but one girl. One woman. One past.

Joy Keenan stopped existing when she was a toddler. Temperance Brennan took her place.

Temperance lived on, but what about Joy?

Could she have had what Temperance had?

If her parents hadn't had to run. If they'd been normal. If she'd grown up as a Keenan, would things have been so different?

Joy might not have been a forensic anthropologist. She might not have wanted to take that path. Why would she? There would have been no reason for Joy to want that life.

Unlike Temperance, Joy might not have worked in the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab. She might not have met Angela, or Hodgins, or Cam, or Zack, or any of the other interns whose lives were changed by Temperance.

Unlike Temperance, Joy would not have met Booth under normal circumstances.

Why would she? Booth investigated crime. If Joy had the childhood she would've had, there would be no reason for her path to cross with Booth's.

But this is all speculation and conjecture.

Thinking about "what if" scenarios regarding her are completely illogical. Because she'll never know the truth.

Joy Keenan.

Temperance Brennan.

Two names. One person.

Temperance exists now. Has for years.

Joy sleeps beneath the surface, merely a memory.

At least she did, until fifteen hours, two minutes, and seventeen seconds ago.

Temperance Brennan looked down at the pink bundle in her arms. The baby nestled within looked back up with a giggly burp. She had Temperance's blue eyes, but her hair was much darker than hers, and her face had a faint flair of Booth about its structure.

"Joy Christine Booth," said the forensic anthropologist fondly, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I promise you'll never have to go through what I did. Ever."

And Joy, reborn again, giggled at her mother.

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><p><strong>For those in the know, this Joy is in fact my OC from my Bones stories. Surprise guest star!<strong>

**Review please!**


	31. Fire

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or the poem stated. Both are owned by their creators.**

**Prompt #30: Fire - Unpredictable, warm, bright, and inviting. And she knew, from personal experience, that he could be just as dangerous as those flickering flames.**

**Words: 671**

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><p>For an English poetry class in college, I came across a strange poem written by Robert Frost. It was entitled "Fire and Ice" and unlike the other works I'd read, it caught my attention.<p>

**Some say the world will end in fire,**  
><strong>Some say in ice.<strong>  
><strong>From what I've tasted of desire<strong>  
><strong>I hold with those who favor fire.<strong>  
><strong>But if it had to perish twice,<strong>  
><strong>I think I know enough of hate<strong>  
><strong>To say that for destruction ice<strong>  
><strong>Is also great<strong>  
><strong>And would suffice.<strong>

For one, the poem had two very intriguing viewpoints. A clear choice - destruction of the world by fire or by ice. Each was backed by very interesting points of view. The subtle emotional aspects aside, I found myself drawn in by this poem and unequivocally thought that ice would be a more logical way to go.

It would be years before I looked back at the poem again. With more experience, more emotional capacity, and a greater understanding of the world and its evils, I took the time to look over the poem and really think about the choices it gave.

Ice had made sense before; why suffer from the pain of being burned to death? If the earth ended in ice, one would just need to fall asleep and freeze to death. Morbid, but relatively painless.

But I've since found a flame of my own. At least, that's my belief.

Seeley Booth reminds me a lot of fire. He's bright and warm, just like fire, and his face lights up when he smiles. He's charismatic, and people flock to him like moths are drawn to flickering candles. Especially women. Booth is never short of his pick of desirable females.

But he's also not without his dangerous side. Like a wildfire, Booth is capable of great destruction. However, he's always in control of that side of himself. Only when his temper is provoked - or someone close to him is threatened - then, and only then, is the accelerant poured on the wildfire and he goes into a rage.

There's a line in that poem that's always puzzled me. **From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. **

What does desire, a biological reaction to various sensory messages, have anything to do with choosing one's manner of death? Dying is dying. How you go really doesn't matter, does it?

Then I did something. Something I never thought I'd do, not since my parents disappeared and Russ left me behind. I started to feel. I started to care. I started to want something more from Booth than I've ever wanted from any man before.

I started to desire more from him. And from myself.

I never asked him to father my child after his brain surgery because I was so, so afraid that he'd refuse. He'd been raving about it before I got him to the hospital, and afterwards I didn't want to cause him undue stress. Then it faded to the back of my mind. But the desire remained. It built up inside me, like a fire fed by dry brush and a long, long drought.

And when Mr. Nigel-Murray was killed, that night as I curled up against Booth, I realized that I wanted to feel that fire. When we moved with each other, as he kissed me harder and gentler and more passionately than any lover before him, I knew he felt exactly the same way.

Finally I know what Frost meant by that line.

And now I must agree with him.

**From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire**.

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><p><strong>I'm actually very proud of this. Review please and tell me what you think!<strong>


	32. Interns

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #31: Intern - Sometimes, they get the time to talk about their boss and her FBI agent.**

**Words: 380**

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><p>The interns lucky enough to intern at the Jeffersonian had come to hang out with each other outside of classes and their time at the Medico-Legal Lab. It was on one of those occasions that the conversation shifted from whining about finals to the ever-plentiful gossip about their boss and her partner.<p>

"Who else believes that Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth should just get in on already?" asked Wendell suddenly.

Clark rolled his eyes. "Why must we constantly butt into other people's lives? It's not professional."

Sipping from his ever-present cup of herbal tea, Fisher spoke up. "But it's true. They've been dancing around each other for years now."

"I think it's kind of warranted," said Arastoo. "I mean, they both had pretty messed-up childhoods, right? That would make for strong intimacy issues."

"Yeah, but seriously, they're hella into each other," Daisy stated. "I can see why. Dr. Brennan is really smart and sexy, and Agent Booth, whoo..." She fanned herself. "Really fine specimen of manhood, right there."

"But it's more than that," Clark said. "They get each other, ya know?"

Arastoo nodded. "Yes. Sometimes they do that talking-eyes thing - "

"Yeah, I know that thing!" Fisher said, pointing at Arastoo knowingly. "That's right, they like, have eye-convos."

"Or eye sex," Wendell concurred. At the shocked looks on everyone's face he said, "Hey, Angela. She says some weird but true stuff."

"Don't we all know it," said Clark. "It's actually quite surprising they don't realize it themselves."

"Dr. Brendan is quite oblivious sometimes. And Agent Booth is very careful not to alarm her," admitted Daisy.

Fisher took another sip of tea. "Vincent would always say..." he started, but teetered off when he realized who he was talking about.

They were silent for a few minutes, remembering their former comrade and friend. Then Daisy said, "Hey, you hear we're getting a new guy soon?"

"Yeah, someone named Finn...Finn..." Fisher snapped his fingers trying to recall.

"Abernathy," supplied Clark.

"Abernathy! Right, that one."

Wendell smirked. "Wonder what he'll think of Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth."

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	33. Ice

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or the poem.**

**Prompt #32: Ice - He used to agree with Frost - after tasting desire, probably death by fire would be better. But after meeting a steely-eyed woman whose soul was frozen in logic, he would brave any chill to save her.**

**Words: 671**

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><p>I once came across that poem by Robert Frost when I was reading in the library as a teenager. My home life was rough, and I was doing everything I could to forget about it. This poem make me think long and hard about something that wasn't about home or my old man.<p>

**Some say the world will end in fire,**  
><strong>Some say in ice.<strong>  
><strong>From what I've tasted of desire<strong>  
><strong>I hold with those who favor fire.<strong>  
><strong>But if it had to perish twice,<strong>  
><strong>I think I know enough of hate<strong>  
><strong>To say that for destruction ice<strong>  
><strong>Is also great<strong>  
><strong>And would suffice.<strong>

I was too young to really understand the subtler bits of it. But I'd grown up with a lot of hate, and I'd wanted so much more out of life. So as a teenager who desired everything I didn't have, I decided that fire was a good way to go. Fast and explosive.

It's been years, but when I found the poem again, I was older. Wiser. More understanding in the ways of the world. I still think fire might be a better way to go, but now I'm balancing that with something else. Something colder.

I think I might've found a woman I'm willing to brave a blizzard for. At least, I think so.

Temperance Brennan does tend to make people think of ice. She can be cold and unforgiving with her facts, and her hard shell makes it difficult for people to understand what she means. When she gets angry, her voice freezes you in place and cuts like an ice storm.

But she isn't without her beauty. There are imperfections in her, but they make her unique and beautiful to me. When she smiles, it's like the sun strikes those facets and sets her alight with brilliance.

There's this one part in the poem that's always made me wonder. **I think I know enough of hate,** **To say that for destruction ice,** **Is also great,** **And would suffice.**

What does hate have to do with anything? Ice and hate aren't synonymous...are they? Certainly not when it comes to dying.

And then I realized something. Something I knew all my life, but never confronted, not since Dad left me and Jared behind. I started to feel it again. I started to feel what did to me, and what it did to others.

I started to realize what hate felt like.

When she rejected me, it felt like my heart froze mid-beat in my chest. I found Hannah to try and thaw it out, but it only worked to make me hate myself even more. I knew I was replacing her. And when she broke down crying in the car, I could feel that hate rise once again.

But when the English squintern was killed, that night as Bones walked into my room as scared as a small child who thinks her closet has a monster inside, I realized that we both carried a lot of hate. Hate had hurt Temperance so much, I didn't want hate to be the only thing she felt this world. I wanted her to know love.

She'd hidden behind that wall of ice long enough, I decided as we tried to erase the pain and sadness and guilt over Broadsky's shooting of one of the squinterns. I knew she had to get out and live her life.

So now, I agree with Frost.

**I think I know enough of hate,**  
><strong>To say that for destruction ice<strong>  
><strong>Is also great<strong>  
><strong>And would suffice.<strong>

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><p><strong>So, this turned out to be the exact same length as "Fire." Creepy coincidence, right?<strong>

**Review please!**


	34. Ancestor

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #33: Ancestor - ****She'd said it without intending to hurt him. Sometimes she forgot how sensitive this tough ex-sniper FBI agent was underneath all his strength.**

**Words: 631**

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><p>He was already skeptical about us finding out if this mystery skeleton was President John F. Kennedy. When Hodgins postulated the theory that there was another shooter and I confirmed it, he stormed off angrily. I found him later in my office, and when I asked him about it, Booth was unusually abrupt with me.<p>

"And if he was killed by two gunmen, then the government lied. They covered it up."

I didn't see why this bothered him so much. "Throughout history, governments have lied with impunity to other governments and to their own citizens." When he didn't seem reassured about that, I decided to get to the dot - point? Whatever.

I'd come across the information in passing once, and it had never been mentioned again. After all, Booth was hardly a common surname. That and the fact that his facial bone structure bore a striking similarity to the famous assassin's, and I could draw that conclusion in my sleep. Just to be sure, I did some further digging and managed to find that assassin's face. My initial assessment had been correct.

"Booth, does - does this have anything to do with the fact that your ancestor was a - a famous assassin?"

"Bones..." His eyes cut to me. That should have been my first clue that I had crossed a line. But I had to continue. I had to finish my thought to make sure that was the reason Booth was acting so strange.

"John Wilkes Booth, who killed President Lincoln."

He immediately got even angrier at me. "You promised you would never mention that. You said that to me," he said in a raised voice, getting up off my couch and heading for the door.

Even as I scrambled after him, my mouth was spewing the rationale. "No, you told me not to. I never promised. I promise now. I promise now!" I called after him as he stormed across the lab. I stayed in my doorway, staring after his back as I realized that I had, once again, stuck my foot in my mouth.

_Great. Now he's angry at me again_. I turned around and sat down on my couch with a sigh. I didn't want this to break us apart again.

But I couldn't brood for long. I had a murder to solve.

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><p>After we were released by Mr. White and his men, I went to Booth's apartment with a case of beer. It always worked as an apology before. We'd already made our peace, but I wanted to make sure.<p>

I hated making him feel bad. Especially over things that I don't understand as well as I should. This was just another issue in a long line of them.

He opened the door when I knocked. I gave a hopeful smile. "May I come in?"

"Sure Bones, come on in," he said, standing aside to let me pass.

I decided to speak first and get to the purpose of my visit. "I'm sorry for bringing up John Wilkes Booth earlier. I wasn't thinking when I spoke. I'm sorry."

His expression formed a confused frown. "Bones, that's okay. I didn't ask you to promise, so you didn't have to keep it secret." His grin returned. "I guess it could've been worse. You could've said it in front of Hodgins. Or Sweets."

The face he made was priceless. I laughed, and he laughed with me. Then we opened up our beers and spent the night watching movies.

It was good to be friends again.

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><p><strong>A short tag to "The Proof in the Pudding" because seriously, it's adorable.<strong>


	35. Knight

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #34: Knight - The title applied - he protected her every single day from the dragons they hunted. And he did look damn good in that standard-issue body armor...**

**Words: 886**

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><p>"<em>You actually have a knight in shining FBI standard-issue body armor<em>."

When Angela first said that, Temperance had brushed it off as an overly romantic assumption. Knights were only granted that title by a ruling monarch, and to the best of her knowledge, Booth had not recieved it from any king, queen, emperor, or empress. (She really didn't count the toy store Junior Knight of the Realm badge from their time in the U.K) Body armor did not shine; it was made from reinforced Kevlar fibers in matte black.

But as she soon came to learn, Angela hadn't been speaking in as literal a sense as Temperance had taken it. Knights were dashing, gallant, strong, and true. Booth filled out all the criteria quite well. A fact she mentioned as Halloween started to creep closer upon Washington, D.C. Needless to say, he found the comparison very flattering.

"You're saying I'm your knight in shining armor, Bones?" he asked as they sat on the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab's catwalk, their legs dangling in the air as they watched everyone scurry around with festive decorations.

"No, that's what Angela said," she clarified. "I do, however, agree with her statement in the fact that you are quite knightly."

His grin appeared, bright and warm and charming. "Yeah, you don't really strike me as a DID."

"A dee-eye-dee?" Temperance repeated, confused by the acronym. "I'm not familiar with that agency."

Booth laughed at her puzzlement. "No Bones, it stands for Damsel In Distress. DID."

"Oh, you mean the feminine archetype that is present in many fairy tales stipulating that women are weak-willed individuals who require the services of one or more men, usually knights or heroes, to save them from some dire predicament."

He blinked dumbly at her long-winded explanation. "Yeah, that."

"Because I'm not," Temperance said with not a little pride. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm trained in many forms of martial arts - "

"Can carry and shoot a gun, can survive in the forest avoiding a foreign army..." Booth cut in with the smooth patience of experience. "Yeah Bones, I know, you've only told me a couple dozen times."

_But not everything, _she admitted silently. She never told him how much she appreciated his presence whenever they were heading into dangerous situations. She never mentioned the overwhelming relief she'd felt when he came in guns blazing to save her from whatever bit of serious trouble she would manage to get into. She never spoke of how she'd come to depend on him, rely on him, hope that, in the face of danger and somewhat-certain death, that he'd rescue her.

He saved her from more than just the job dangers too. She'd lost count of how many times Booth had come by in the middle of the night after a trying case, bearing Thai and some type of booze in an attempt to cheer her up. She'd forgotten exactly how many phone calls had passed between them that weren't case- or work-related. She couldn't recall the number of times he'd made to include her in outings with Parker.

She never admitted that, in truth, he had become her champion. That he saved her from being alone in her ivory tower, guarded by the thorny walls of her facts and fears. That he battled the dragons of her past to try and show her the brightness of her possible future.

She didn't need it, though. She was too strong for that. Or was she?

They fell silent again. Temperance fiddled with her bracelet and said, almost to herself, "Maybe I won't go as Wonder Woman this year..."

That caught Booth's attention faster than a shiny lure attracted a fish. "You've always been Wonder Woman," he stated. "Why the change?"

She looked over at him and toyed with telling him the truth. That Wonder Woman, for all her strengths and powers, was kind of like Temperance - somwhat alone. That being Wonder Woman had been her pillar of strength for many years, and now she was strong enough without needing the fantasy of having super-strength, super-speed, or being able to fly. That now she wanted to try and be something new, something different...maybe someone who needed to be saved. Sometimes.

But since she wasn't bound with the heroine's mystical Lasso, the urge wasn't all-consuming. So she merely said, "I feel like a change. Is that so wrong?"

"No, no, not at all," he said. "Just curious. Then what will you go as?"

"I don't know." Temperance thought for a few seconds. "Angela says that I could be someone called Princess Zelda, but I don't know who that is."

"It's a character from a video game, Bones. Legend of Zelda," he explained. "Parker loves that game."

"Perhaps he could instruct me on how to create my costume?"

Booth grinned. "Yeah, maybe. You wanna come over tonight and ask him? I have him for the weekend."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

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><p><strong>It started out serious, and then Halloween came around and it got cute. Lemme know what you think!<strong>

**Review please!**


	36. War

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #35: War - She knows she can't relate to his past, but she tries to help him live in the present as best she can.**

**Words: 511**

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><p>There weren't many times he shut her out of his life. Time, trust, and the upcoming birth of their child had erased what little space between them still existed.<p>

But when an old Ranger buddy of Booth's was found murdered, Temperance could feel the walls closing around her partner's core like a vault of steel. He made some passing reference to an op they'd both gone on, but that was all she learned about Corporal Timothy Valcon from Booth.

They worked the case with CID. They tracked Valcon's movements on his leave and followed his last day through D.C. They talked to his girlfriend, his teammates, his CO, and his family. They examined the evidence. They found the killer. The case was solved with a happy ending.

But Booth still didn't let her back in.

Temperance hadn't been invited to the funeral, and she hadn't expected to be. She stood on the hillside above the funeral party, dressed in somber black, her hands in her pockets as clear blue eyes sought out the familiar profile of her partner. Dressed in full military uniform, he was instantly recognizable among the gathered Rangers. He stood at attention, tall and regal and expressionless, as the casket bearing his friend was lowered into the ground. His face was blank when the twenty-one-gun salute was fired and when the flag was folded up and handed to the widow.

She watched her partner's face the whole time. After so many years together, she'd learned to read him almost as well as he could read suspects. He was close to breaking down, but he had to be strong. That was Booth, everyone's rock. Nothing could shatter him, not when other people depended on his strength.

So she waited, standing beneath an oak tree with her hands in her pockets, silent and watchful as the stone angels that perched atop the markers around her. She waited until the mourners slowly made their way back to the line of cars on the road. She waited as Valcon's family said their final goodbyes and departed. She waited until Booth was the last one standing over the grave. And she waited some more.

It wasn't that she wanted to. Every part of her body burned to go to him and try to soothe his pain. But Temperance had learned much about her partner's pride, and so she kept rooted beneath the tree. He wanted to grieve in solitude, and she would be there if he wanted to seek her out.

Booth put back on his cover, looked up from the gravestone, and met her eyes. Temperance didn't move, didn't wave, didn't even blink. She was just there, a beacon to guide him back from wherever his memories had taken him.

His mouth moved. Despite the glare of sunlight and the distance between them, she could still read his lips well enough.

_I'll be back soon. I promise_.

In her recent memory, Booth never broke a promise. So Temperance nodded once, turned, and started to walk back to her car. On the way she lifted a hand to rub her growing belly in a way that Angela had done while pregnant with Michael.

"It's okay," she whispered to her unborn daughter. "He'll be home soon. I know he will."

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><p><strong>Sort of angsty, but insert the baby and yay! Happy moment!<strong>

**Review please!**


	37. Letter

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #36: Letter - "What's this?" he asked, holding up a page - the one she'd ripped from her book. The page that had her last words written while trapped under the ground.**

**Words: 586**

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><p>Packing up another box of miscellaneous crap, Booth came across a book with a familiar title. A smile touched his face as he flipped it open and browsed the story. Then the book fell open to a torn page, and he frowned. <em>Why's the page ripped? <em>he wondered. "Bones?"

"What is it, Booth?"

"You know what tore the blank front page for **Bred in the Bone**?"

She sounded confused at his question. "Why?"

"Because I just picked it up and - "

"No, Booth, put it back!" she demanded, sounding concerned. "Don't!"

"What is it, Bones? I'm not gonna - " He stopped mid-sentence, catching sight of a wrinkled piece of paper in the box right underneath where the book had been. It looked like the missing page, so he picked it up. "Oh wait, I found it."

"Booth, no!"

Too late. He flipped the folded paper open. It was filled with handwriting he recognized - Temperance's. And it was addressed to him.

_Dear Seeley,_

_If you find this, than you didn't find us in time. Hodgins says that we should leave letters behind to those we care about in case my idea about the explosive charges don't work. He's left one for Angela, I think._

_I really don't have anyone else but you. Nobody understands or "gets" me quite like you. You can understand me. You can explain what I say when I can't._

_I don't know if this is the best way to tell you, but right now it looks to be the only way. I believe you'll find us. I just don't know if you'll find us alive. In case you don't, I want you to know this._

_I care about you. More than anyone I've ever known before. Like my parents, or Russ, but different. I - I think I love you._

_This is a very detached way to tell you, I know. But there aren't a lot of options right now._

_I just want you to know that. And that I don't blame you. AT ALL._

_I know you'll find us._

_From your Bones_

_P.S. ~ If I see God or whatever afterlife there is after this, I'll make sure to let Him know that you did your_ _best_.

Booth looked over the note again, and again, and yet again. He couldn't believe what he was reading. Or how long it had been since it had been penned.

"Booth..."

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway. His Bones, his partner, his heart, standing there alive and healthy and carrying his child.

The same woman who, almost five years ago, nearly died beneath the sandy coal-infused earth because of the Gravedigger.

He crossed the distance between them to crush her in his arms. Temperance returned the hug as tightly as she could. "I'm so glad I found you," he breathed.

"I knew you'd find us," she replied softly. "I never gave up."

"Then why - "

She cut him off. "In case I was wrong. But I'm very rarely wrong, so there."

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	38. Alarms

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones, _but my OC Joy I do claim as mine.**

**Prompt #37: Alarms - "Oh god, not again," he groaned as the lab's alarms went off and the doors slid shut. "Hodgins, what did you blow up now?"**

**Words: 424**

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><p>It was a wonderful spring morning when the biohazard alarms went off like klaxon sirens, scaring ten years off everyone in the lab. The doors slid shut, sealing them inside and making the team very, very angry.<p>

"HODGINS!" screamed everyone in anger, identifying the likely culprit from years of experience.

"I didn't do it!" came the instant reply. "Swear to God, babe! It was Michael!"

Angela's yell came next. "There is no way our nine-year-old son managed to trip the biohazard alarms, Jack! Don't even start with me!"

"No! It really was Michael!" Hodgins insisted. "He did it!"

"Liar!"

Then out came running a small dark-haired boy, his shortened white lab coat stained with pink fluid and carrying two half-full, bubbling vials in his hands. "Dad! That was AWESOME!" he yelled. "Did you see that? I made it work! I'm going to win at the science fair!"

It was more from shock than actual interest that Booth asked him, "What exactly did you do?"

"I got curious about electricity and the way we could use it to make our science experiment even more awesome," came the honest reply. "So I started experimenting."

"Why was there an explosion?" asked Temperance, still trying to calm her heartbeat.

Now the young Hodgins looked somewhat abashed. "Well, um..."

"Holy crap, Mike! That was incredible!" came another, higher-pitched voice. A dark-haired girl with eyes of clearest blue bolted out of the same room Michael had run from. "Did you see that? It was - " She screeched to a halt upon seeing all the adults staring at her. "Oh. Hi, Mom."

"Joy?" Temperance sounded a weird mix of pleased, horrified, and morbidly interested. "What did you do?"

Joy and Michael both launched into a long spiel about exactly what they'd done, in meticulous detail worthy of both their parents. Everyone continued to stare at the two kids as they outlined exactly how a science experiment had managed to trigger the biohazard alarms of the Jeffersonian. Using nothing but electricity, water, baking soda, vinegar, and copius amounts of glue.

In other words - an electronically-triggered exploding volcano.

Booth was very, very proud of his daughter and godson's ingenuity. He only wished they hadn't sealed the rest of the team inside the Jeffersonian during an ongoing murder investigation.

But other than that, she was extremely proud of them.

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><p><strong>Early experimentations by the little ones. Just a cute future fic.<strong>

**Review please!**


	39. Russ

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #38: Russ - His little sister could've done worse than an FBI agent. But he knew that her partner would never let anything happen to her.**

**Words: 517**

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><p>Russ nearly flipped when he heard that his baby sister had gotten knocked up.<p>

He nearly flipped again when he heard that Booth was the father.

So, after going through the proper channels, Russ managed to get a message to Booth and ask to see him.

The meeting of two men who loved Temperance Brennan - her brother and her partner - was somewhat strained, to say the least. Booth was the more physically intimidating of the two, but Russ had anger and the protective urges of a big brother on his side. He opened with, "What happened?"

Booth didn't bother with anything extra. "We slept together. I thought you knew how that happened."

"Dammit, Booth!" Russ barked, anger getting the better of him.

"Russ, I'm handling it," Booth said, speaking over him. "She's staying with me. We're living together."

Dark eyes bored into the FBI agent's gaze. "Not marrying my sister?"

"She doesn't like the 'social convention' of getting married," Booth said. "We're taking it one step at a time, Russ. I've only just gotten her used to playing with toys again."

"So you're keeping the baby?" Russ clarified.

The look on Booth's face could only be described as horrified astonishment. "Of course!" he almost shouted. "We both are! She's our daughter, and we're going to raise her right!"

Russ stopped listening at _daughter_. The implications hit him like a truck. "Wait...I'm going to have a niece?"

"Yeah, didn't Bones tell you?" Now Booth sounded confused. "I thought she told you when she found out..."

"No, I...I didn't know." Now that he knew, a warm fuzzy feeling was making itself known. Tamping it down, Russ focused back on his anger at being left out of the loop. "So, no marrying?"

Booth shook his head. "Her wish, not mine. We're living together, and we'll raise our daughter together. That's the arrangement."

"But if she ever changed her mind..." Russ left it dangling.

"I'd marry her in a heartbeat," Booth immediately confirmed. "I love her."

The ex-con could smell a lie a mile away, but Booth didn't reek of deciet. Not that it was a surprise; Russ had seen those sparks flying even way back when Booth had gotten him and Tempe in a room and explained their family secret. He might not like it, but knowing that this Fed loved his baby sister made Russ slowly cool down.

"You tell me when the baby's about to be born."

"Yeah, absolutely," Booth agreed.

"And you don't leave Tempe to do it by herself."

The look he recieved was part disbelief, part insulting. "You kidding me? I don't want you and Max and the squint squad plotting my murder. That kind of team would make me disappear, no trace and no evidence, and Bones herself would shut me away in Limbo."

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><p><strong>Don't know if Russ was already told, but this is assuming he didn't know.<strong>

**Review please!**


	40. Abroad

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones, _but I do own my OC.**

**Prompt #39: Abroad - Every time she left, she wondered if it was the right idea. Every time she came back, she swore she wouldn't again - but always broke that promise.**

**Words: 1,084**

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><p>The first time it happened, she was four years old.<p>

"Where you going now?"

Temperance paused, putting the folded dress shirt into her suitcase and facing her daughter. "Joy, we talked about this," she said patiently. "Mommy's going to Guatemala to identify people who weren't laid to rest." Taking Booth's advice to heart, she didn't say mass graves or genocide victims.

"How long you gone?"

"For a few months," she answered.

"Can I come too?"

Temperance shook her head. "No Joy, you have to go to school."

"Be safe?" little Joy said, parroting the phrase she sometimes heard others say to her Daddy.

She smiled and hugged her daughter. "I promise I will be safe."

She was gone a grand total of three weeks before she had to come home. Joy kept having nightmares of how her Mommy didn't come home, and not even a phone call every night could soothe her fears. When she began to suck her thumb again, a habit she'd kicked two years prior, Temperance was on the next flight home.

Holding her sobbing daughter close, the forensic anthropologist swore to never let her daughter feel this terrified again.

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><p>The next time it happened, she was seven.<p>

Temperance thought it was a good time to go again. Now that Joy was older, she had a better grip on her emotions and could understand the importance of her mother's work.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Maluku Islands," she replied, packing more sunscreen.

"Didn't you already go there?"

"Yes, but that was before you were born and my trip was cut short."

Joy nodded knowingly. "Because Miz Julian told you to get your butt home and save Aunt Cam's job."

Smiling at the memory, Temperance nodded. "That's true. But now I can go back, and they need my expertise. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy." Those clear blue eyes looked at her with a familiar intensity. "Be safe?"

Temperance kissed her daughter's forehead. "I will, I promise."

She was gone for almost seven weeks before a frantic call demanded that she return home. Joy had a bad fall out of a tree and fractured her arm, and in the pain-ridden words of a scared little girl, "I want my Mommy now!"

There was no unit of time short enough to measure how fast Temperance was home. Holding her daughter's plaster-free hand, she swore she'd never be away that long ever again.

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><p>The last time it happened, she was eleven.<p>

She didn't whine, didn't complain, and didn't question. She just sat at her mother's desk and watched as Temperance packed for the jungles of Borneo and a three-month long excavation of a tribal burial site.

Temperance thought the silence was uncanny, but didn't comment on it. Lately Joy had been experiencing long periods of silence, looking at everything in a room with a detached gaze, as if distancing herself from the room. Joy had recently started calling them her "observational moments", while her friend Tyler called it "squinting at nothing."

Booth had a good term for it - sulking.

"I'll be gone only three months," Temperance said.

No response.

"Should be a routine examination and excavation."

Nothing.

"I'll be back in time for your nationals."

There! A shrug. Not the best response, but better than nothing. It showed that Joy was listening, at least.

She was gone the full three months, and when Temperance came home, she almost panicked when she realized that she might miss Joy's track and field nationals. Almost panic morphed into full-fledged panic when her flight came in late, her baggage took too long, and traffic moved at a crawl as she attempted to drive out to the competition.

But all that panic melted away when she bolted into the bleachers and saw her daughter crouching at the starting line, those clear eyes scanning the seats one last time before landing on Temperance as she joined Booth. A bright smile bloomed on the girl's face before she focused on the race again.

Booth gave her a grin as he took in the uncharacteristic look of panic on his partner's face. "Cut it a little close there, didn't you?"

"Don't remind me," she gasped out.

And in that moment, Temperance promised herself that she'd leave enough time to not cut it this fine ever again. It was just too much panic that she didn't need.

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><p>"Hey Mom?"<p>

Temperance turned to see sixteen-year-old Joy sitting on the sofa in her office. "What is it, Joy?"

"Why don't you ever go for long digs anymore?" asked her daughter curiously.

"Honestly, it got to be too tiring. I was always hurrying, and it's not fair to the dig or the remains in them." The forensic anthropologist gave a tiny grin. "I had this little girl who seemed to get into trouble every time I was halfway across the world."

Joy laughed in recollection before she looked at her mother steadily. "You know you can go again, right? I'm not a little kid anymore. I can look after myself."

But Temperance shook her head. "I don't want to miss anything in your childhood, Joy. Those remains have been sitting in their graves for many centuries, so they can wait a few more years."

"Mom, you've been wanting in on that Incan ceremonial burial ground for the last three months," Joy said. Her grin reminded Temperance of Booth's charm smile. She was her daddy's daughter, all right. "You can go, if you want."

"But you have nationals in two weeks."

Joy stood up and gave her mother a hug. "It's okay," she said. "Dad can tape it and I can give you the play-by-play when you get back."

In that moment, Temperance had to promise herself that she wouldn't cry. But just like all the times before, she broke that promise.

But in this case, it was okay.

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	41. Zack

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Bones.**_

**Prompt #40: Zack - She still missed him, sometimes glancing at the squintern of the week as if unsure why they were there.**

**Words: 706**

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><p>She thinks she'd hiding it, but I can tell.<p>

Sometimes it's a subtle gesture. A glance, a gesture, a turn of phrase. Something simple, but meaningful.

But when the squintern doesn't get it, she remembers it's not him.

Sometimes it's more obvious. She starts to ask for something and expects to be understood. She begins to explain something simple, then stops when she realizes.

The squintern isn't him.

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><p>Zack's been gone for almost four years now. Four years in the loony bin, serving a sentence for something I'm pretty certain and he knows he didn't do.<p>

Bones is reminded every single day that he's gone.

She and Zack were the most similar people. Both were the genius in their field, but those smarts came with cripplingly awkward social skills. Misunderstandings abounded, and people frequently thought they meant one thing when they said another. They really only clicked with each other, two misfits in a world that really didn't get their strange way of seeing the world.

Then Zack got duped, and Zack was taken away. Locked in the looney bin for the rest of his life, unless he decided to come clean. But I have a feeling that he wouldn't.

After that, we had a predictable cycle of intern squints that managed to be useful whenever they were in the lab. But none of them could truly replace Zack's niche in Bones's heart.

Not that I blame her. I miss the little awkward genius myself.

When the English squintern - Vincent - was killed, I saw almost the same type of loss in her eyes then as when Zack was taken away. But then again, Zack is still alive. Vincent was not.

But still, Vincent never betrayed us as completely as Zack did.

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><p>I recently decided to visit him.<p>

I know Bones doesn't go much, but Hodgins pops in a lot to give him some intellectual stimulation. Sweets comes for Zack's weekly shrink session. Angela comes in from time to time to check on the kid too.

This will be my first trip since he was locked up. Second, if you could me dropping him and Sweets off after the case when he broke out to help us solve it. But my first actual visit.

Zack looks somewhat unsurprised to see me. "It's nice to see you, Agent Booth," he says. "How is Dr. Brennan?"

"She's okay," I reply. "Still misses and worries about you."

"I hear you and Dr. Brennan have procreated."

_And there's that weird way he speaks again, _I think. "Yeah, Bones and I are having a kid. A girl."

"Congratulations," he says honestly.

"Thanks."

Zack looks up at me, King of the Looney Bin (Hodgins says Zack said that first, not him) wearing those gloves to hide his mangled hands. I look down at him, still seeing that little nerd who got so badly duped by logic.

Then he says, "You still think I didn't do anything."

"Not what you think you did," I clarify.

"You think I shouldn't be in here."

"No, I don't," I admit. "But hey, that's not up to me. The courts put you in here, and here's where you'll stay."

"Technically Miss Julian got me judged _non compos mentis_," Zack says.

"And technically I think you shouldn't keep secret what you're keeping secret," I reply. "But we're entitled to our own opinions." I can see that this meeting won't go anywhere else, so I nod to Zack. "Bones is expecting me at home, so I'm going now."

Zack nods back. "Thank you for visiting, Agent Booth."

* * *

><p>Maybe he'll come clean one day. Maybe not. I don't know. I never knew with Zack.<p>

Someday, he may admit that he never actually killed anyone.

It's nice to hope for someday.

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><p><strong>I miss Zack! I want him to be back again, who agrees?<strong>

**Review please!**


	42. System

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #41: System - ****They had a way of doing things, and it's worked for years.**

**Words: 407**

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><p>"Booth, let me do this!"<p>

"Bones, just let me help out."

"I'm not an invalid just because I'm pregnant."

"I never said that. I just want to take some of the work. C'mon, just let me do my thing."

"I thought your thing was your street thing and my thing was my lab thing."

"Yeah, but that's at work. Here, you do your mom thing and I'll do my dad thing. And my dad thing is to help out when Mom is about to tip over."

"I was not about to tip over, Booth, stop exaggerating."

"..."

"..."

"Geez, Bones!"

"What?"

"You almost fell over!"

"I had a grip on the rail. Stop hovering!"

"You stop courting severe injury!"

"Booth, I refuse to be molly-coddled by you for the next three months until I give birth. You know I am perfectly capable of taking you down."

"Yeah, normally. Not when you're, shall we say, packing more poundage than usual."

"..."

"What? Don't tell me you're one of those women who obsess over your weight."

"No, but that was highly inappropriate. It's a biological response for the body to retain more fat so as to protect the fetus."

"Yeah...Oh geez, Bones, don't cry!"

"It's not on purpose, Booth. It's a hormonal imbalance that's triggering the production of tears that I can't - _hic! _- seem to control."

"Now you're hiccuping. Great. Oh geez Bones, I'm sorry."

"Booth, it's not - _hic! _- because of you! It's a - _hic! _- hormonal imbalance brought on - _hic! _- by my pregnancy. Don't - _hic!_ - take it personally."

"Okay, that's it! Sit down now."

"No, I - _hic! _- don't want to!"

"Take the tissue, dry your eyes, and go sit. Crying tires you out, remember?"

"...Okay." *sniff* "You sure?"

"Yes, Bones. I can do this myself. It's not the first time I've lugged your luggage up the steps to our apartment."

"Okay. I'll - sniff - go unlock the front door."

"Step carefully, okay?"

"I will."

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><p><strong>Just a conversation I can imagine happening. Blubbery!Bones was a tad difficult to write, but fun!<strong>

**Review please! We're finishing up this one!**

**9...**


	43. Recommendation

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones, _but Joy is mine.**

**Prompt #42: Recommendation - Camille Saroyan knew she'd played a huge part in the creation of one of the best crimefighting teams in the country.**

**Words: 470**

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><p>Cam Saroyan rarely spoke about her involvement in creating a specific pair of crime-solving partners. She didn't like to toot her own horn, and to be honest, she'd just thought it would only be a one-time thing.<p>

But when six-year-old Joy Booth began asking how her parents how they had first met, Cam had to clear her throat significantly before Booth could make up an excuse. He had the decency to look sheepish when he said, "Actually sweetie, it's thanks to Auntie Cam that I met your mother."

Childlike attention instantly switched from Daddy to Auntie Cam. "How did you get Daddy to meet Mommy?" asked Joy.

Cam gave Booth a smug look as she picked up the little girl. "Well, Daddy needed help catching a bad guy, but he couldn't do anything to find new clues. All he had were bones."

"So he went to Mommy," Joy interrupted with a smile of her own.

"Actually, no. He didn't know your mommy yet." Joy's eyes widened comically, making Cam chuckle a little. "I told him about your mommy, how she was the best at her job. I told him to go to the Jeffersonian and ask her for her help."

The little girl leaned forward. "Then Daddy met Mommy?"

"Yes."

"And they solved the case?"

"Yes," Booth quickly said, drawing attention back to him.

"So then Mommy and Daddy fell in love and got married?" Joy went on expectantly.

Cam gave an apologetic half-smile. "No. See...your mommy and daddy had a fight." She shot Booth an annoyed look. "Then they didn't work together, then they did. They worked together for almost seven years before they had you."

Now Joy looked back at her father. "But didn't you love Mommy?" she asked, completely confused.

Booth did not look very comfortable being put on the spot like that. "Well, not at first," he admitted. "But when I got to know her better, I did fall in love with her."

Joy did not look pleased with this development. Hopping out of Cam's arms, she took off for her mother's office shouting, "Mommy! Why didn't you marry Daddy before having me?"

"Thanks a lot, Cam," Booth grumbled as he took off after his daughter. "Bones, swear to God, it was Cam! Cam started this!"

_Well, it's true,_ thought Cam smugly as she bent over to examine the forgotten brain on her autopsy table. _I did start this, right at the beginning. You're welcome, Seeley._

But again, she wouldn't say that aloud. She'd just gotten the two together. Staying together had been all them.

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><p><strong>Future ficlet. I like it!<strong>

**Review please!**

**8...**


	44. Remains

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #43: Remains - Her focus truly was incredible; Armegeddon could be going on just down the hall, and she wouldn't look away from her bones.**

**Words: 530**

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><p>"Bones. Bones. Bones?"<p>

Temperance didn't look up. Putting his hands on his hips, Booth tried again. "Bones, Earth to Bones. Anybody there?" Still no response.

"You know she's not going to answer you in the foreseeable future, right?" Angela said, coming up next to Booth. "These are the remains she's been waiting to examine for the last eight months. There's no way, short of Armageddon, that you're even going to get the time of day from her. Not until she's done her job."

Booth gave a half-scowl at her words. "I can't wait that long," he said. "We have to go."

"She's not moving, man," Hodgins said from his microscope. "Not gonna happen."

"You all realize that I can still hear you," Temperance said.

"Good, that means that you know that you're supposed to be in court, like, now," Booth said impatiently.

"I don't have court until three o'clock."

"It _is _three, Bones. Actually, it's three-oh-five."

She made a little noise of disbelief in the back of her throat. "That's preposterous. It's two-oh-five."

"No, it's definitely three-oh-five Bones. Check your watch."

"Check yours."

"Mature," he said, looking at his watch anyway. To double-check, he looked at his cell phone as well. "Bones, I've still got three-oh-five - wait, three-oh-six now. From two sources. Now c'mon, we gotta go now."

"I don't believe you."

"Are you seriously doing this now? Bones, c'mon, look up from your bones and let's go!" A thought struck him. "Wait a second. Wait just a second..."

Temperance scowled without breaking eye contact with her physical remains. "What is it now, Booth?"

When he spoke, he had an amused grin uncurling on his lips. "You do realize that yesterday was Daylight Savings Time, right?"

"What's your point?"

"Did you reset your clocks?"

Silence. A small frown grew larger on her face. Angela tried to hide a smile behind her fingers, but to no avail. "Oh sweetie, you forgot, didn't you?"

Slowly, Temperance's hand lifted so she could check her watch. She looked at the device, then to Booth, and back again. "Oh," she said eloquently. "How late are we?"

"Assuming they got my call, we won't be that late if we leave, like, now."

"I need my - "

Wordlessly he held up her original notes, her coat, and her purse. "I got it all. Let's go."

Temperance grabbed her things without a word. If she looked close enough, Angela could see the faintest dusting of a blush on her friend's cheekbones. But the glimpse was fleeting as FBI and forensic anthropologist bolted for the door in a hurried but dignified fashion.

"Was she just owned?" Hodgins asked.

"She assumed, honey," Angela corrected. "And it made an ass out of her." Picking up her notes, she looked to the intern standing cluelessly by the remains and said, "Better wrap it for later."

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><p><strong>This one was trickier than most, but I just drew on experience. That actually happened in my house once.<strong>

**Review please! Let's break a hundred before this ends!**

**7...**


	45. Wedding

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #44: Wedding - Booth was still in shock the next day when she came down from the forensics platform and asked him, "What's wrong, Booth?"**

**Words: 578**

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><p>I still can't remember how this started. But for some reason, I'm standing in front of an altar in my best tux and my Cocky belt buckle. Hodgins and Sweets are standing next to me, and Jared's right beside me. On the other side of the altar are Angela, Cam, and Jared's wife Padme serving as bridesmaids. Angela is holding Michael in her arms, and Cam's holding baby Christine.<p>

I hear "Here Comes The Bride" start to play. I see Max in his best tux at the doorway end of the aisle before Jared turns me around to face the altar.

Parker is beside me now, holding a little pillow with two rings tied to it. "Wow Dad, she looks awesome!" he whispers.

"You are one lucky bastard," Jared agreed. His grin is like the one I remembered at Christmastime when we were kids and we oogled the toy display while Mom shopped. "Damn, Seeley, you sure are a lucky bastard."

I hear fabric rustling up the aisle and hold my breath. It can only be one person. There's only one person Max would be escorting down the aisle.

But it can't be. This is just a dream, I know it. She doesn't believe in marriage. She'd never agree to it.

"Seeley," Jared hisses, "turn around, you idiot, you're missing it."

I turn around - and I'm floored. Temperance is radiant in a simple white gown, a sheer veil, and holding a bouquet of daffodils and daisies. My only conscious thought was _Dear God, she's beautiful_.

This had to be another dream. It can't be happening. I never expected it to happen.

But it is.

Somehow I make it through the ceremony. I can't remember much; the timeskip of a dream, I guess.

Next thing I remember is saying "I do," and hearing her say "I do," as well. I remember exchanging rings, slipping the golden band on her finger to nestle next to a modest little diamond. I remember lifting the veil to stare into the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen in my life.

I remember the reception. We held Christine between us and had our first dance as a family. There were a lot of toasts, we danced all night, and at the end we loaded up the SUV and headed back home, Christine asleep in the backseat.

* * *

><p>The next day I wake up alone.<p>

I get ready for work, and go into the Jeffersonian. I'm completely convinced that it was just another dream. A vivid one. Damn vivid.

She sees me walk in and heads down from the forensics platform, looking puzzled about something. "Booth? Is something wrong?" she asks as she comes up to me. "You feeling okay?"

I'm about to reply when a glint of light sparkles off her hand. Her left hand. The third finger of her left hand. From two somethings.

Two rings. A little diamond and a gold band.

Holy Mother of God. It did happen. It really did.

"I'm fine," pops out of my mouth. "I'm - I'm totally fine." My smile feels like it's stretching past my ears. _It really happened_. "So, got a cause of death for me, Bones?

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><p><strong>100 reviews! *confetti!* Yay!<strong>

**For my inner fangirl, which knows that there probably won't be a wedding between them but wants it anyway. And **the baby will be called Christine? Soooo cute!****

**Review please!**

**6...**


	46. Skull

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones, _but Joy is my OC.**

**Prompt #45: Skull - "Can you really say it in every language?" he asked one evening, true interest glittering in his brown eyes.**

**Words: 245**

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><p>It was a quiet afternoon in the Booth-Brennen adobe when the silence was broken by the word, "Skull!"<p>

Booth froze, hearing a very small voice saying a very strange word. He strained his ears, standing very still to hear better.

"Schedel! Lebka! Crâne!"

Sure enough, it was his daughter's voice speaking the unfamiliar words in a singsong tone of voice. Curious, he decided to investigate.

"Koponya! Benglog! Skalle!"

It sounded like she was in his partner's home office. Altering his course accordingly, the FBI agent picked up his pace.

"Fuvu!"

Booth's eyebrow rose. _What in God's name is she teaching our child?_

"Crânio!"

He stepped into the home office and saw Temperance handing Joy a cookie with a big smile. "Very good, Joy. Now Latin."

"Cerebrum!"

Finally, he recognized a word in his familiar language-of-choice. "Really Bones? You're teaching her how to say skull?"

Temperance smiled. "Why not? I can say it in multiple languages, and she's a remarkably quick study. She's picking it up well." She held out another cookie to the five-year-old girl and said, "What about Gaelic, sweetie? Remember it?"

"Cloigeann!" chirped Joy.

Booth raised an eyebrow at his partner. "You taught our daughter how to say skull in Irish?"

"Gaelic," she corrected absently. "And yes."

* * *

><p><strong>Shortest. Ficlet. In the series!<strong>

**Those who know "Mayhem on a Cross" will get the reference. And the languages used, in order, are: English, Dutch, Czech, French, Hungarian, Welsh, Swedish, Swahili, Portuguese, Latin, Gaelic. All translations are courtesy of Google.**

**Review please!**

**5...**


	47. Spotter

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or the episode 6x15 "The Killer in the Crosshairs."**

**Prompt #46: Spotter - When he asked for her help, she experienced a brief moment of fear. What this what he felt when his crosshairs were aimed on a person's chest?**

**Words: 679**

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><p>Booth and I hurry to change position on the rooftop. He has his eye to the range finder seconds after we move to the opposite side of the courthouse. "There he is," he announces. "I got Broadsky. He's definitely going after the cop." He puts down the range finder and picks up his rifle, setting up on the crate we're behind as he speaks. "I'm gonna need you to be my spotter."<p>

I immediately disagree. "No, I'm not trained for that type of work."

"C'mon Bones. For God's sake, you're brilliant. Just pick up the range finder, kay, look through it, find Broadsky, and just give me a read."

Feeling very anxious about his plan, I do as he says. The barrel of Jacob Broadsky's weapon is easy to spot despite being hidden between ventilation boxes. _It's like staring down a microscope, _I think. It's an unsettling thought. "Three hundred and eighty-two yards, eighteen inches," I report.

"Temperature?" He's already settled behind the rifle, his sniper's past fitting over him like a second suit. It's just a little unnerving, how easily Booth slips back into the role.

_I have to concentrate_, I think. I switch the view's display. "Fifty-four degrees Farenheit."

Caroline speaks over the phone slowly. "_Okay, the bad cop is on the move. Headin' towards the bathroom_."

"Wind speed here I, I can feel it on my cheek. I estimate five miles per hour, coming from the south." He sounds calm, as if he'd done this yesterday. _He has done this before, many times, _I remind myself. "Okay Bones, I need wind velocity on Broadsky there. You see a flag? Anything."

I move the range finder around, scanning the dark rooftop. Nothing is moving in the wind. "Booth I don't, I don't see anything."

Caroline sounds as stressed as I am. "_Bogey is in the can. I repeat, bogey is in the can_."

"There's gotta be something, there's alway something." Now Booth's voice is strained.

I realize how crucial my role is. If I can't find something to accurately measure the wind speed, Booth can't risk a shot. Seconds pass as I try again, slower. "I, I don't know, I don't - "

_Wait_.

There! Three hundred and eighty-six yards, four inches away, a little scrap of cloth flutters in the puffs of wind. "Five miles an hour, intermittant. From the south-west."

Booth doesn't reply. He doesn't have to.

He sights, he shoots. There's sparks from what he hits. There's no other shot from Broadsky. We both straighten slightly, peering through the darkness as if to see him.

"You did it," I say, looking back through the range finder. "Did you, did you hit Broadsky?"

Booth checks, then snaps the support for his rifle back along the barrel. "Only had a clear shot of his weapon."

I start to ask if that was the truth, but I refrain from it. He calls for backup and roadblocks. I wonder if we'll catch him, and he doesn't think so.

* * *

><p>We're driving back to the Jeffersonain, silent after the ruckus of exchanging information. As Booth predicted, Broadsky slipped the roadblocks. He's in the wind again.<p>

I still wonder about his admission of only having a shot at his weapon. Booth has been angry at me for a while now. I don't want to make his bad temper worse. Instead I say, "Is it always that...distancing?"

He looks over. "What d'you mean, Bones?"

"Looking through a scope at the person you're about to kill." I remember how I likened it to looking at things through a microscope and shiver. "Do you find it easier to distance yourself that way?"

"It's - it's different for a lot of people, Bones. Sometimes it is, sometimes it's not."

"I asked if it was for you," I say.

If the look on his face is any indication, I've upset him again. But his answer is spoken gently. "Yeah. Sometimes."

He's leaving me again. I had this feeling when he sighted down his rifle, but now it's back. He's slipping away, remembering when he was a sniper, alone and conflicted about what he does and how he feels about doing it.

Biting my lip, I decide to take a chance at getting him back. Back to me. "Want to grab a drink?"

He answers after a beat. "...Sure."

* * *

><p><strong>Little scene introspect here. Enjoy!<strong>

**Review please!**

**4...**


	48. Fate

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #47: Fate - He trusts it, she doesn't think it really exists. But it didn't matter - it believed in them.**

**Words: 1,108**

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><p>Fate is a tricky little thing. No matter who does or doesn't believe in it, Fate has this way of sticking its nose in everyone's business. Meddlesome and pushy were only a few words to describe what some people thought about Fate's work in their lives.<p>

But those who criticize are often those who Fate helps the most.

* * *

><p>Their latest victim, found dead and half-filleted in a ritualistic setting, had Booth and Temperance going into a psychic community in little Turner's Creek, Virginia. Needless to say, neither of them were very happy about this development.<p>

"Psychics," Booth grumbled as they got out of the SUV. "Why must there be psychics?"

Temperance looked around at the quaint, almost suburban town. "It's a viable lead, Booth. This is the victim's hometown, and what better way to understand where she came from then to interview her friends and neighbors?"

"Remember the last time we saw a psychic?" Booth asked, straightening his tie.

"You're referring to Avalon Harmonia, yes?"

"Yeah, you can't tell me that wasn't creepy."

Temperance shrugged. "It was strange how she could make such inferences without scientific evidence or prior knowledge."

"Especially that bit about my coma-dream and your story that you deleted."

Further conversation stopped when they arrived at the victim's home. Booth moved to knock on the door, but before his fist could connect, it was opened by a teenage girl with sky-blue eyes and black hair. She was dressed in a white tanktop, long black skirt that fell to her knees, and a colorful scarf tied around her waist like a sash. "You're here about Elise," she said knowingly. "Please come in."

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, this is my partner Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian," Booth said, allowing Temperance to enter first. "We're here to ask questions about Elise Garrows."

The girl set water to boil on the stove and pulled out four mugs. "I'm Wendy, her sister," she said in greeting. "Sorry for not having tea ready, I was expecting you some time ago. Did you hurt your back getting that flat tire squared away, Agent Booth?"

"How did you know that?" asked Temperance, a little surprised.

Wendy handed him a heating pad. "Use this. It will help."

"Miss Garrows, did you know what your sister was doing in Arlington two nights ago?" asked Booth, taking the pad gratefully and putting it over his sore muscles.

"Elise was applying for a job, although she knew it wouldn't work out." Wendy shrugged. "Why she didn't follow her intuition is beyond me. Her gift was plenty strong."

"Her gift?" repeated Booth.

Wendy nodded. "My sister was psychic, as you're aware, Agent Booth. She got flashes of events, very clear ones, and always conjoined with something that she could recognize beforehand."

Temperance tried to keep her disbelief out of her next question. "Do you have a gift as well?"

"I can see into the future as well, but it's more disjointed. Mostly I see numbers." Those blue eyes looked over at Temperance. "I see you don't believe me, but trust me, it's quite real. Twenty, by the way."

The anthropologist frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Twenty. That's how many more days until you'll know for sure." Wendy suddenly got up and headed for the kitchen. Ten seconds later, the teakettle whistled. "Elise was supposed to get back home this morning. But I knew something was wrong the instant the sun rose."

"How's that?" asked Booth politely.

"She didn't call. She always calls at sunrise when she's away." Returning with four steaming cups of tea, Wendy set the tray down and handed one to each of her guests. Taking a third for herself, she left the fourth on the tray. "It wasn't like her, and that's when I knew something was wrong."

Booth pointed to the fourth cup. "Who's that for?"

"I'm not sure, but someone will be joining us soon," Wendy said, sipping her tea. "Ten months old. That's when your son will try to teach your daughter how to say his name."

He blinked. "I don't have a daughter."

She didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes got a faraway look for a moment, then blinked back to normal. "Excuse me, I have a client coming." Picking up the fourth mug, Wendy smiled at the partners. "If you'd like, you can stay until I'm finished."

Booth shook his head. "Actually, we should head back to D.C. We might need to ask you more questions about your sister."

"I understand, thank you." Tucking black hair behind her ear, the girl looked at Temperance again. "If you're curious, I can tell you exactly what you want to know. Just ask me."

A knock came to the front door. "Miss Garrows?"

"Coming." But she didn't look away from Temperance. "Well?"

* * *

><p>"Well that was creepy," Booth said as they left the Garrows house.<p>

"Very unsettling," Temperance agreed.

The ride home was silent, but Temperance couldn't really relax. She looked at the folded piece of paper in her hand, then at Booth. Then back again.

_If you're curious, I can tell you exactly what you want to know. Just ask me_.

"Booth," she said softly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure Bones, what is it?"

"If you could...if you could know the fate of something, good or bad, would you want to know?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe if it had something to do with my family."

"Would you believe it?"

"Dunno. Maybe?" He glanced over at her. "Why?"

"Just...just wondering."

He dropped her off at the Jeffersonian before heading back to his office. Temperance waited until he was completely gone before unfolding the paper that Wendy had given her just before they left.

Only a few numbers were written on it - 4 2 2012. "_Can't tell you much but this_. _Good luck,_" Wendy had said to her when she pressed the folded paper into her hand.

"Just random numbers," Temperance said, crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the trash. "Nothing significant about them."

* * *

><p><strong>Not sure how this turned out, but I had to put in the foreshadowing for baby Bones's birth!<strong>

**Review please!**

**3...**


	49. Switch

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones._**

**Prompt #48: Switch - Staring down the smug Gravedigger, she had to fight to keep her face schooled into her poker face. Losing her temper wouldn't help find Booth.**

**Words: 389**

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><p>Booth is still missing, and we're running out of time.<p>

Heather Taffet is sitting there smugly, so sure we'll never find where Booth is being kept. I want to hurt her so badly. But I know I can't. She has to tell me where Booth is.

Jared said he has an idea about how to find Booth. Spring cleaning, Hodgins calls it. Secret files on everyone in America.

I don't care. As long as it brings Booth home to us.

We learn about the secret storage locker. The boots come in. Hodgins finds the flecks that tell us that Booth is on a decommissioned naval ship. Jared is about to call it in when...

His phone rings.

There's been an explosion in the ocean. A decommissioned naval ship scheduled for sinking blew up too early. The same ship that Booth...that Booth was on.

I hear screaming. A high-pitched scream going on, and on, and on...

It's me. I'm screaming.

Because I've lost him.

Booth's gone.

* * *

><p>"Bones..."<p>

I can hear him in my head, fighting to be heard past the screaming.

"Bones..."

Am I finally losing my mind?

"Bones!"

My eyes fly open, and there he is. Booth. Alive.

Is he? My hands reach out touch his face, smoothing along his cheekbones and his forehead. There are more wrinkles than I'm accustomed to seeing, an older look in his overall face..."Booth?"

"Bones, you had a nightmare," he says softly, stroking my face in turn. "Just breathe, Bones. Okay?"

It was a dream? It felt...felt so real...

But he's right. We saved him from the Gravedigger. I kept my cool until we learned about the ship, then I belted Heather Taffet across the face with a briefcase.

We saved him.

He's alive.

I hear another cry from the other room. I must've woken Christine.

"Go back to sleep," Booth says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I'll go this time."

My eyes are already shut. I'm asleep before I hear the door shut.

* * *

><p><strong>Another future fic!<strong>

**Review please!**

**2...**


	50. Parenthood

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in the _Bones_ cast.**

**Prompt #49: Parenthood - She worried about it, as she did with all of life's unexpected surprises, but he thought it was an adventure. He always could adapt faster than her.**

**Words: 531**

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><p>Raising a baby was one thing Temperance Brennen knew she'd need a lot of help with.<p>

The nights of broken sleep were only to be expected. According to Angela, babies wake up every few hours, hungry and fussy. Temperance quickly adapted to the irregular sleeping hours - not difficult, as she was used to it from her work in the field and long hours working cases with Booth. But when she did have trouble getting up, Booth would lay a hand on her shoulder, whisper, "I got her, Bones," and head to the nursery.

Changing diapers was a challenge. For a woman with two doctorates, it was almost laughable that she couldn't properly do diapers. Christine didn't help much, squirming and fussing every time she needed changing. Booth teased her mercilessly about it for the first three months, but he'd always nudge her aside and help out.

Feeding Christine was also a daunting task. More often than not, the baby food would end up smeared over the highseat's tray, thrown on the floor, mashed in Christine's bib, or spattered over Temperance's blouse. It was almost too easy to lose her temper from time to time. But Booth would just take the spoon from her, say "Go get cleaned up, I got this," and try to feed their daughter.

Then there was the crying, the shrieking, the spit-up, and the various other noisy and dirty aspects of having an infant in the house. Long hours, little sleep, and very few moments of private time were among the things lost to her.

But the rewards far exceeded the losses. When Christine bawled her first word - Ma, to Temperance's smug happiness - Booth was there with the video camera to commemorate the historic moment. They brought it to the Jeffersonian and showed it to the group over and over again, pride in their voices and their eyes. Cam almost smacked them both, calling them over-doting parents and a pair of saps to boot.

When she toddled her first steps, Booth had his arms spread open to catch her, and Temperance was on camera duty. Christine wobbled forward on chubby, unsteady legs, her face scrunched in concentration as she gripped the edge of the sofa. After five steps she was halfway to Booth, and then she let go of the sofa. Three unassisted steps later, and she collapsed in her father's arms. That video was likewise played multiple times for the Jeffersonian crew.

When Christine began working her way through the childproof locks, both parents shared a smile of pride at her intelligence. Then they hurried to secure the fragile valuables before their daughter did some real damage.

Smart as she was, Temperance knew her limitations. Raising a child alone would have definitely exceeded those limits.

Thankfully she had Booth with her every step of the way. Faithful, loveable, stalwart Booth, who obviously had more practice with raising a child than she did. Her Booth, who always came through when she got stuck.

She was ever so grateful that he was there.

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><p><strong>It'll be fun watching Booth and Brennen raising a child, won't it?<strong>

**Review please! We're coming to the close!**

**1...**


	51. Partners

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Bones _or any of the characters.**

**Prompt #50: Partners - It took some doing - and good couple years of denial - before they took that first step. But they knew it'd been destined to happen the first moment he'd walked into her lecture.**

**Words: 886**

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><p>The first time Joy ever asked how her parents got together, she was six years old. She was over her cousin Michael's house for a sleepover, and for a bedtime story she asked Aunt Angela how her parents met.<p>

Angela told her that when they met, Daddy was asking Mommy for help, and he swept her off her feet into a life of solving crime. Together they became great superheros that defended D.C. from bad guys. It was romantic and touching and filled with moments that passed for them both, other people who got in the way of the couple's happily ever after. But at last, they finally had Joy and, as Aunt Angela said, "got their heads screwed on right and got married, finally."

That was a pretty good story, Joy thought. But she knew it hadn't been as flowery as Aunt Angela made it out to be. Michael's mom had a bad habit of adding unnecessary romance to a simple enough tale.

A week later, she asked Uncle Sweets about it. He went on and on about psychology stuff that bored her to tears, talking about shared traumas and experiences that both strengthened and weakened their relationship, and the trials they had faced together. But hidden in the jargon, he kept the tale pretty short. They met, they bonded, and once that bond was formed, nothing could break it.

Another good story, Joy thought. But again, it wasn't enough. She wanted the full story.

Two days after that, she asked Aunt Cam for the whole tale. She gave the most concise story yet - Joy's parents did a complicated song-and-dance routine that spanned almost eight years, various flames in-between a powerful attraction that began from their very first case together. They'd risked life and limb for each other more than once. In the end, Joy's birth had been the crux to finally bring them together.

A satisfactory tale, Joy had thought with a big smile. Explained everything she wanted to know.

Except how they had met. Nobody seemed to know that, except Uncle Sweets, and his only words on the matter was "Go ask them."

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><p>One night at the dinner table, Joy looked at both of her parents and asked point-blank, "When did Mommy and Daddy first met?"<p>

Her parents exchanged looks that said everything without uttering a word. Mommy smiled and looked down at her plate, as if remembering something funny. Daddy took a sip of his drink and set down his fork.

"Well," he said with a big smile, "you know that Auntie Cam sent me to meet your mother."

"Yeah. But how did you meet?" Joy asked again. "Where?"

"At one of my classes," Mommy said. "I was teaching students about the practical ways of removing flesh from dead bodies without damaging the bones - "

"Bones, we're eating! Geez," Daddy said, putting his fork down.

" - and he walked through the door," Mommy finished, still smiling. "He didn't think he'd find a pretty female forensic anthropologist."

Daddy nodded. "And that's when everything changed, kiddo," he told Joy. "I knew she was special the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew there'd be no way I could ever ask anyone else to be my partner."

"I didn't know that," Mommy said. "You never told me that."

"It's the truth, Bones," was his reply.

Joy beamed at both parents, then her six-year old wisdom prodded her to ask, "So why did it take so long for Mommy and Daddy to get married?"

"Because Mommy and Daddy didn't know any better," Daddy admitted with a sheepish grin. "We had to learn how to be friends, then good friends, before we fell in love."

"And Mommy...didn't know how to love," added Mommy. "Grandpa and Uncle Russ knew how to love me, but I - I didn't trust easily, Joy. Didn't love people easily. Daddy had to deal with a lot of Mommy's issues before I realized that I cared about him like that." She looked at Daddy. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"Yeah Bones," he replied quietly. "I knew."

Unable to contain herself, Joy hopped off her chair and hugged her Mommy tightly. "I love you, Mommy!" she said. "And I know you love me too!"

Mommy hugged her back. "I really do, sweetheart."

"And I love Daddy too!" Joy added, letting go to hug her Daddy as well. "Just as much as I love Mommy!"

Daddy picked her up and hugged her tightly. "And I love you too, squirt." Setting her down again, he patted her back. "Now get back to your seat and finish your dinner. Remember the hockey game's on tonight?"

"The Stanley Cup finals!" Joy gasped. "We can't miss that!" But she knew she wouldn't watch the game without being snuggled between her parents, a blanket over their legs, and her parents' arms around each other. Joy wouldn't have it any other way.

They belonged together, after all.

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><p><strong>FIN!<strong>

**Another completed series! Thanks for staying with it for so long! Leave a review on your way out, and read my other works please and thank you!**


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